Past Demons
by AKAJipster
Summary: Sherlock is taken by a criminal he helped to capture, after they escape in transit before trial. Joan Watson works with NYPD's finest - Gregson and Bell to figure out where he is, and why they took him. Sherlock has his own mystery to solve, what is his gut trying to tell him about the man holding him captive, unfortunately the drugs aren't helping him to work it out quickly.
1. Chapter 1

Hello... its been a few years since I've published fanfic, so I'm a little rusty. I wanted to offer a few notes for your assistance and knowledge. This story is already complete and it will be posted daily over the next ten days (if I don't get distracted) so its 10 chapters long.

I'm going to say its set between Season 4 and 5, so before the brain injury of season six (I'm already considering a sequel that will take this story into season six once I've seen more episodes, as I have already seen an opportunity!) This is my first Elementary fanfic, and my first story with police procederals - I apologies in advance for any liberties I take on that, I'm also british so I hope I haven't included any slang thats not common outside of the UK :D - I simply wanted to write a good hurt/comfort style story that touched upon something that has been mentioned a couple of times in the early seasons.

Quite simply I hope you enjoy! And I hope to write more.

 **Past Demons**

 **CHAPTER ONE**

The Brownstone was quiet, for once. Sherlock Holmes sat in the armchair beside the fireplace contemplating the files that were spread on the floor before him. Joan Watson was reading a stack of files placed beside her, but nothing was grabbing her attention. They were between cases, the previous three weeks they had been in pursuit of a man who for so long had been one step ahead of them. With every deduction Sherlock had made, the prime suspect Andrew Larry was just five minutes gone when they had got there.

As the days passed Andrew Larry seemed to become more and more aware of the man who was pursuing him, and Sherlock Holmes was on his trail, getting closer. Larry's attentions to Sherlock reached the point Gregson had started to become concerned by Andrew's sudden attention to the consulting detective. Andrew had started leaving messages specifically for Sherlock, name-checking Holmes in phone calls and messages. That was until Sherlock made a deduction that finally put them in front, they caught Andrew and brought him in, and things could finally return to normal.

'There is nothing here, these cold cases have been reviewed so many times,' Joan suddenly exclaimed. 'I need a coffee; do you want one?'

Sherlock only gave her the briefest of looks to indicated he was ok, so she got up and headed down to the kitchen. On reaching the final step Joan's cell phone began to ring and she wasted no time in answering it when she saw Captain Gregson's name flash up as the caller, hoping inwardly that it would be another case. At the same time, she heard the doorbell ring but figured Sherlock would manage that considering he was just a few steps away upstairs.

'Are you with Sherlock?' Gregson asked with no pleasantries to start the conversation.

Joan frowned. 'We're both in the Brownstone.'

'I'm sending some blues over,' Gregson informed her. 'I've just heard Larry has managed to escape his escort to the prison.'

'What?' Joan checked, and a flurry of thoughts attacked her with the information shared.

'We both know he was paying particular attention to Sherlock before his arrest, I don't want to take any changes,' Gregson continued, and he sounded hurried, clearly on the move himself.

'Ok right,' Joan tried to process the information. Larry being free again felt so disheartening after all the work they had done to catch him. 'Well, I'll go tell Sherlock,' she added.

'I would have phoned him myself directly but felt it might be better coming from you, I know how close to this one he was,' Gregson explained.

'No, you made the right call,' Joan agreed and proceeded up the stairs. She was about to ask Gregson how he'd escaped when she noticed the front door was open on turning at the top of the stairs. 'Sherlock?' Joan called out loudly.

'What is it?' Gregson asked from her phone, she still had it to her ear.

'When you called the doorbell also rung, and now the door has been left open,' Joan hurried the short distance, Sherlock was no longer in his chair, and there was no sign of him. 'SHERLOCK!' she screamed out and there was no response. 'He's not here, his coat, keys, phone are still here,' She stressed as she scanned the immediate area for any clues and her eyes fell on an empty syringe now lying on the floor. 'He's been taken.'

'I'll be right there,' Gregson ended the call and Joan looked around in disbelief at how quickly the day had changed.

* * *

Sherlock felt his body jolt and wearily opened his eyes, knowing immediately that something was not right. His arms were restricted, they had been cable tied behind his back at the wrists, he recognised the hard plastic digging into his skin. His feet were also tied, and he was still being jolted, they were in a moving vehicle, a transit van he deduced as he was rocked around in the wide expanse.

He was alone at least but he could hear two male voices speaking in the front of the van and his view of his captors were hidden by a screen. Sherlock began to take stock, he had been attacked at his front door, he remembered approaching the door, but his memories were hazy of the actual act of being taken. Sherlock suspected he'd been drugged somehow, he recognised the feeling of the aftermath all too well. It can't have been chloroform, he's not easily taken in a struggle and he felt no bruises he'd expect to feel, so it was quick, a jab, he decided as that best explained his grogginess now.

Watson, where was Watson? He narrowed his eyes as he tried to remember. She had gone downstairs to make tea, no coffee, and possibly take a call, had he heard her ringtone? He couldn't be sure but he knew she was out of the way, so he was relieved by that. The van took a sharp corner and Sherlock couldn't stop his body sliding across the transit's floor. He righted himself and tried to think about his situation, who could be behind this. There were so many suspects he banged his head with frustration against the floor, he hated being the captured one, as opposed to being the capturer.

The van stopped suddenly, and it took all of Sherlock's wile to stop himself flying across the floor once again. Seconds later the back doors flew open, the sudden bright sunlight caused Sherlock to squint before he felt himself being dragged towards the doors. A hood was hastily placed over his head, before being lifted out of the van and dragged across some dirt. With the hood on he was blind to the location and his strong senses were giving him nothing as to his location, he suspected the knock out drug was still in his system and dulling them.

It was roughly a minute before they entered a building, by the change in the sounds around him Sherlock could tell it was a disused warehouse, most likely abandoned as their footsteps echoed around the space. A predictable if favourite haunt of people who take people he considered. The captors roughly dragged Sherlock down a flight of metal stairs, and with his ankles tied it caused him to grit his teeth as he felt every single step.

Finally, he was pushed forward, landing face first onto the floor. A loud noise indicated a door being slammed shut followed by the turn of a key, then silence. Sherlock took some needed breaths, he then manoeuvred his head from side to side to remove the hood that blinded him. The room had no light, it was pitch black. Sherlock simply lay there listening intently but realised quickly that the room was soundproofed. For the first time in a long while Sherlock had to concede that he had absolutely no idea what was going on, and only hoped someone else did.

* * *

Police swarmed the brownstone, despite Joan insisting they only really needed to check the front door, as that's where the crime had happened. Gregson moved her to one side and seemed to be assessing her.

'Did you hear anything?'

'I was talking to you, I didn't think twice about the door,' Joan spoke calmly. 'They only rang once, trust Sherlock to be prompt to open the door to kidnappers,' she fumed. 'Normally he keeps people waiting,' she added and then checked herself. 'Sorry, I shouldn't jest.'

'I get it, you're worried, we all are,' Gregson said softly.

Detective Bell joined them and reviewed the notepad in his hand. 'We're not finding much here I'm afraid and no one saw anything outside,' Bell informed with a sigh. 'We're checking known locations of Larry, but that's also drawing a blank at the moment.'

'So, he's disappeared into thin air,' Watson said with frustration, and the two men looked at her with no response to offer. 'We have the syringe, but no prints,' Watson considered, her mind desperate to find the clues her partner would normally draw at this time. 'Have we determined what they gave Sherlock, what was in the syringe?'

'There's nothing back from the report yet, but I can push it,' Bell stated and was already on his phone as he stepped away to make the call.

'We might have to wait for them to contact us, tell us what they want,' Gregson spoke up.

'And what if they already have what they want?' Joan questioned. 'We just wait for Sherlock's body to show up?'

'Joan,' Gregson began to reason but Watson cut him off.

'I'm sorry,' she interrupted. 'I didn't mean it to sound that way I'm just annoyed, Sherlock would have found something, anything by now, but I just can't think straight,' she confessed.

'It's understandable but we will find him,' Gregson put an arm around Joan and she responded, it was just what she needed, that one small glint of hope.

* * *

Sherlock was beginning to enjoy the peace and quiet, it was very rare that he could find this solace in his everyday life. The numbness in his hands, however, were a constant reminder that all was not well. He was not allowing his body to panic; his breathing was calm, and his mind was clear. Mentally he was preparing himself for the worse, he was expecting pain, had they wanted him dead he'd be so already. Isolation and fear was to be a companion until this was over, but he tried not to dwell on the 'over' part too much.

The sound of keys in the door were sudden and loud, breaking the silence abruptly. Sherlock naturally shifted his body as best he could away from the noise until his back hit the wall. The darkness had felt like a cloak around him, and it wasn't until the door swung open that he had even realised where it was in relation to the room. A light was switched on and Sherlock closed his eyes quickly and moved his head to the side to try and ease the discomfort on his eyes.

'Mr Sherlock Holmes,' a voice boomed, he didn't recognise it.

'And you are?' Sherlock asked, his voice raspy with the lack of water.

'An admirer,' the voice returned.

'You could have just called,' Sherlock responded, his eyes blinking as they adjusted to the light. He was finally able to look at the man who was speaking and he recognised him immediately. 'Andrew Larry, shouldn't you be locked up?'

'They tried,' Andrew simply smiled. 'I have a good team around me. I take it your own team failed to warn you in time?' he added, with an air of smugness.

'It appears so,' Sherlock agreed, with no further comment.

'I really wanted to see the man who beat me.' Andrew spoke as he stepped closer to Sherlock. 'It takes a great man to outwit me, Holmes, and you seemingly did that, so you have my respect.'

'You have strange ways of showing that respect,' Sherlock replied gruffly.

'Would you have come if I'd simply asked?' Larry questioned.

'You clearly don't know me well enough,' Sherlock considered, he had been so bored since closing the Larry case, he would have jumped at the chance most likely.

'So, confirmation that we both want to be right where we are at the moment,' Larry stated with pleasure.

'I'd rather I wasn't restrained,' Sherlock pointed out.

'I don't respect you that much,' Larry shot back.

'So, what do you want?' Sherlocked asked with anger lacing his voice, tired of the chit chat.

Larry went outside the room briefly and returned with a chair, and two of his men. The men headed towards Sherlock lifting him up. Sherlock offered no resistance as they dumped him into the chair. His hands were cut free of the cable ties but quickly pressed against the arms of the chair, and both men secured his wrists once more with cable ties. They quietly cut the ties around his ankles and tied each ankle to the leg of the chair, tightly.

Once done the men moved to the back of the room and Larry brought a chair to sit in front of Sherlock, and for a moment he simply observed the consulting detective who glared back at him.

'You are from London, correct?' Larry finally spoke.

'I am,' Sherlock replied with impatience, still unsure where this was all going.

'You came here because of your 'problem',' Larry's voice carried a threat, and Sherlock started to become a little concerned where this was heading. 'Only it got worse and you found yourself in rehab,' he continued.

'I didn't realise I had a wiki page,' Sherlock mocked, hiding his alarm that this thug had found out about his past.

'How long has it been?' Larry asked calmly and Sherlock's eyes burned into him, he was not comfortable with the line of discussion. 'How long!' Larry yelled.

'Long enough,' Sherlock answered.

'Boys,' Larry simply said, and the two men stepped forward and stood beside Sherlock. 'How long?'

'Two years give or take,' Sherlock responded irritated by the closeness of the two goons beside him, clearly perfecting the intimidation tactics. The mood in the room had quickly changed.

'It so happens my boys know some boys and we've managed to secure you some of the good stuff,' Larry offered.

'No, don't waste it on me,' Sherlock said quickly but through gritted teeth.

'We really don't mind, do we boys?' Larry smiled and his men responded with shakes of the head. 'Anything for the man clever enough to keep up with me,' Larry spoke with admiration.

'I beat you,' Sherlock snarled.

'And it's my chance to demonstrate that you really didn't, you got lucky, that's all,' Larry spoke with determination. He moved a little closer to Sherlock, allowing the detective to really look at him, and Sherlock glared back with anger.

'I don't get lucky,' Sherlock persisted, and stared straight into Larry eyes, there was something that triggered in his mind but he quickly dismissed the feeling with the immediate threat.

'You're right, you don't,' Larry agreed. 'Boys send him on a trip, it's really not your lucky day.'

Larry stood up and left the room as the two men moved to face Sherlock. He knew what was coming, there was no possible escape, he tried to struggle, test his restraints but it was useless. One of the men prepared the heroin, he had all the gear and clearly knew what he was doing whilst the other man cut the long sleeve tee-shirt off of Sherlock's torso. Sherlock tried to calm his breathing as his extra sensitive sense of smell picked up an old scent he had once loved. He felt a tie being tightened around his right upper arm, and seconds later the pin prick punctured his skin close to his elbow. In moments he felt the rush he had been trying to avoid for so long, it felt so good as he succumbed to the drug and fell into darkness.

* * *

'The test came back, the drug in the syringe was a mixture of two well-known knockout substances,' Detective Bell revealed. 'A knock out juice that's previously been used by Larry's men, it's almost their signature brand by all accounts.'

'So, we have a connection,' Gregson stated. He was sat behind his desk at the precinct with Joan and Dectective Bell seated before him.

'I don't understand why they have taken Sherlock,' Joan spoke up. 'Surely being on the run is bad enough but to take Sherlock as well, it draws unneeded additional attention,' she explained.

'Larry's a cocky son of a bitch, and he got caught,' Gregson offered. 'We already knew he had an interest in Sherlock, I was about to pull him off the case when we caught Larry.'

'He'd never have dropped it, he was too invested, he knew he could outsmart Larry,' Joan stated.

'Clearly, he let his guard down,' Gregson returned.

'He thought Larry was under lock and key, why would he think otherwise?' Joan responded and immediately offered Gregson and apologetic look, she took a deep breath. 'How did Larry escape?'

'The escort was ambushed, as he was transferred to maximum security, it was no small effort,' Gregson recovered the report he'd been sent, and quickly read it. 'Says here that four vehicles intercepted, grenades were thrown, mass panic with gun fire and then a helicopter arrived that once they'd released Larry, they used for the escape. Five lives were lost, six more are in hospital, all our men,' Gregson finished with a heavy heart.

'That's some resources the guy has,' Joan was concerned once more and couldn't hide it. 'And they have Sherlock with just a knock on the door,' she sighed.

'He'll hate that,' Gregson half smiled, and he looked at Joan until she also smiled just a bit. 'We have all our best men working on this, he's one of our own, no cop will rest until we find him.'

Joan sat back and sighed loudly, her brain was still processing the events but was a lot sharper now the shock was wearing off. She turned to Marcus. 'You said the previous building's that Larry has been associated with were a blank, why?'

Marcus Bell took an intake of breath before speaking. 'All checked out, all new tenants with no associations with Larry or their previous uses,' Bell answered.

'We know that for sure?' Joan persisted.

'All filed taxes and are above board,' Bell offered.

'I'd like to check them myself, just to be sure,' Joan was already on her feet and grabbing her coat.

'Bell go with her,' Gregson agreed. 'How many buildings are we talking about?'

'Five,' Bell doubled checked with his notepad. 'All in Queens,' he added.

'Keep in touch, no radio silence, understand?' Gregson stated. 'And no heroics, I can't afford to lose any more men today,' he said with sadness.

'Understood,' Bell replied and escorted Joan out of the office.

* * *

The silence was deafening as Sherlock wearily stirred, realising he was secured to a chair in pitch darkness. He wasn't clear on his surroundings, or lack of them in the darkness, or the passage of time. He let his head fall back, he had felt this sensation many times, both euphoric and dismay, reality always came back to slap him in the face.

His hands were numb, painfully numb, with the tightness of the ties around his wrists, the same went for his feet. His head swayed as he battled consciousness. He hoped his sobriety had allowed him that one dose, and that his need for more would be weakened by determination of his own self will. He was not going to become that mess again too quickly if he could help it.

He processed what he could remember through his hazy thoughts, which wasn't much yet. He remembered more the sensations than actual physical memories. Being dragged away from the Brownstone, the movement of the vehicle, being dragged down stairs. Sherlock hoped his memories would be sharper soon, fearing what his drug induced trip had forgotten.

It seemed like ages before the click of the door opened it again, this time Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut on instinct against the light as it was switched on. Slowly and carefully he opened them to see one of the 'men' stood before him.

'What should I call you, you know for when I write my memoirs,' Sherlock asked arrogantly.

'God,' the man smirked.

'Fair enough, God it is,' Sherlocked played along. 'Could you perform a little miracle for me, so I could get out of here?' he added.

'Funny man,' 'God' said flatly. 'You can call me Bob.'

'Why would I call you Bob when it's not your real name?' Sherlock questioned. 'And I'm sure your parents weren't so cruel as to call you God, so just tell me,' he stressed tiredly. 'Oh, is it Bob the God, because that would be epic, come on tell me. You don't intend to keep me alive right?'

'It's Vinnie, and I'm only telling you because I don't want you calling me Bob the God, ok?' the man finally said.

'Vinnie, hello Vinnie, my name is Sherlock, it's a pleasure to meet you,' Sherlock offered. 'I'm of course lying about that last bit, I'm sure you understand my reasons.'

'You're odd, man,' Vinnie simply shot back.

'Why am I here? Why waste that perfectly good heroin on me?' Sherlocked continued. 'It was clearly yours,' he added, remembering that this was the man who had expertly prepared the drug for him. 'Don't do that again, it's not cheap and it's no fun for you.'

'Shut up,' Vinnie snapped.

'Why are you here?' Sherlock then frowned, confused why Vinnie had just turned up and stood there.

'I said shut up!' Vinnie rushed forward and with his right fist, sent it crashing into Sherlock's cheek, snapping his head to the side violently.

By the time Sherlock had recovered his senses Vinnie was once more stood in front of him, as if nothing had happened. Sherlock could taste blood, both inside his mouth where his teeth had clenched down, and also felt it running down his cheek.

'I see he baited you,' Larry announced towards Vinnie as he arrived in the room, seeing the fresh blood on Sherlock's face. 'Don't let him do that to you again.'

'He's odd and annoying, boss,' Vinnie answered.

'Vinnie, I'm right here and I'm hurt by your comments,' Sherlock mocked.

'You told him your name?' Larry questioned turning to Vinnie, who was visibly squirming.

'Sorry boss, he didn't believe I was called God or Bob, and he was gonna call me Bob the God,' Vinnie explained.

Larry simply smirked and looked at Sherlock. 'Do you find it as amusing as I do to deal with such simple folk?'

'Everyone I meet is a simpleton,' Sherlock stated with narrowed eyes. 'No exceptions, no offence,' he added staring at Larry directly.

Larry took a deep breath and just glared at Sherlock. 'We really do have to bring you into the real world, make you appreciate us a bit more.'

'That's not necessary I know exactly what you are,' Sherlock objected. 'But if you simply intend to kill me, hurt me, whatever can we just get it over with because I'm positive there are better things I could be doing with my time.'

'How was the trip?' Larry asked and grabbed Sherlocks chin, forcedly moving Sherlock's head from side to side to examine his reactions and features.

Sherlock didn't answer, he was ignoring the pangs of need he could feel creeping inside of him, threatening to take him over once again. It was only one shot, but sometimes that's all it took to get back on the road to destruction and Sherlock was desperate to not see that happen, he didn't want to give Larry the satisfaction.

'Maybe you need another trip?' Larry hinted.

'Why are you doing this?' Sherlock asked to break the chain of thought.

Larry simply smiled at Sherlock. 'Because I'm better than you, I always have been. I have no stupid addiction that can be used against me, I have nothing that weakens me. You sicken me, such a talent and you let yourself be so easily overcome,' Larry raged. 'You use such amazing talents, when you are sober, to help the police, the police!' he yelled. 'You have a special gift and you waste it with drugs and being the good guy,' Larry paused before bringing his face closer to Sherlock. 'That annoys me, let's just say I've never liked a snitch, I blame my school days.'

'So, you do intend to kill me?' Sherlock calmly asked.

'No, I intend to destroy you,' Larry replied.

'Isn't that the same thing?' Sherlock questioned with an air of flippancy.

'I don't want to kill you, Holmes, I want to remove those gifts you clearly share with me, any which way I can so you can suffer for the rest of your life. Living with the knowledge of knowing what you once had, and knowing you wasted them. I want to destroy your life, as mine was destroyed, you need to feel that.'

'That would suggest that you can break me,' Sherlock returned, trying to keep his voice strong but with no water for hours it was proving difficult.

'Oh, I can break you, Holmes,' Larry sneered. 'Now it's just you, just wait and see, I've waited a long time for this moment,' Larry laughed, and Vinnie joined in.

'By making me an active addict again?' Sherlock ensured his voice displayed his doubts. 'Been there done that, hit rock bottom but still had my skills when I returned,' he stated clearly.

'That earlier? That was just to ease you in, my friend, and that will be the last time you'll ever feel good about yourself,' Larry warned. 'I need to be sure I have your full attention before the real fun starts,' he added.

'I can't wait,' Sherlock said with disinterest.

Larry glared at him for a moment. 'I'm a fair man, Holmes, unlike you, you are nothing but a vindictive child,' his voice was low and threatening, Sherlock caught the word child and was momentarily confused by the choice of words. 'I do respect your skills, Holmes, always have, and I will not enjoy destroying you, but I also don't like the idea of you continuing to walk this Earth and not paying for what you did to me.'

'Seriously, all this is because I ruined your fun?' Sherlock asked wearily. 'I stopped you breaking the law a couple of weeks back and you go totally over the top?' Sherlock questioned. 'You need help,' he advised with a sneer.

'Vinnie, go get this man some food and water,' Larry instructed and waited until Vinnie had left the room. 'I'm trying so hard to hate you, Holmes, you are by default my nemesis, someone I desire to defeat with such passion it hurts,' Larry spoke with care as he began to walk around the chair that Sherlock was secured to.

'I have no wish to be anything else to you Mr Larry,' Sherlock returned with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Larry stopped directly behind Holmes and paused. Sherlock felt uneasy not being able to see Larry, knowing that by all accounts he was not a stable man, there was plenty of evidence that he was highly irrational when dealing with anyone who got in his way.

'I'm actually changing my mind, Holmes,' Larry finally spoke. 'Destroying you is an option, but I'm going to add an Option B,' he announced and walked around to face Sherlock. 'Option B is that you work with me, you use your skills for what they were supposed to be used for, imagine just how far we could go, together.'

Sherlock simply smirked at the new proposal and remained smiling as he spoke. 'You are kidding right?' he checked. 'Did you take some of what you forced me to take?'

'Think about it, think about all you know about me and how you could help me,' Larry offered. 'And when I have destroyed you, remember, always remember, that I gave you the choice.'

Vinnie re-entered the room with food and water on a tray, Larry gestured to hand it to him. Larry took the tray and sat in front of Sherlock, moving his chair closer until he was directly in front of Sherlock. Larry offered Sherlock the glass of water, and the detective only hesitated for a moment before taking some needed sips. The glass was placed back on the tray, and the lid was removed from the food. The smells overwhelmed Sherlock who was abruptly reminded just how hungry he was, it was some leftover Chinese meal of some sort Sherlock figured, there were noodles and some chicken. Larry took a fork to it and then brought it to Sherlock's mouth, again Sherlock hesitated before taking the contents and it tasted so good, obviously reheated, but really tasted good. He was offered another five mouthfuls by Larry before he took it away, even though there was plenty of food still left and Sherlock knew it was barely enough to equal a meal.

'I think that's enough for now,' Larry decided. 'It's been out for a few days, so you might find it doesn't agree with you, it was all we had,' he grinned with menace.

Sherlock watched him stand up and return the tray to Vinnie, grabbing the glass of water before Vinnie left the room. Larry offered the water to Sherlock one more time, this time Sherlock took a few gulps before the glass was taken away, what remained in the glass was then thrown in Sherlock's face as Larry laughed.

'I'll leave you to think, make sure you do,' Larry suggested. 'But I am disappointed just for the record, Holmes, very disappointed, you really are not as smart as you think.'

Sherlock watched as Larry left the room; and was left once again in complete darkness. He still wasn't completely sure what was in store, but he was more afraid now than ever before, he couldn't work with that man, he just couldn't and that was all Larry would need to justify destroying him. Something else was bugging him, Larry's language seemed to be suggesting more than he was telling and Sherlock couldn't fathom out what he was missing, he just knew now with Larry's final comment that he was missing something, and he had to figure it out fast.

* * *

'It's been over twelve hours,' Joan pointed out as she stabbed as some takeout food that had been placed in front of her. She was back at the Brownstone with Marcus, who had insisted on staying with her until Sherlock was safe.

'All the buildings checked out, new occupants and nothing out of the ordinary,' Bell frowned.

Joan pushed her food away, she couldn't think of food. Their day had been spent going to every known address that had been associated with Larry, and nothing suggested that anyone was behind held there. All had CCTV around the hours of Sherlock's kidnapping was clean, there was nothing unusual to report around any building. Joan moved the closed laptop in front of her and opened the lid.

'We are missing something, I know it,' Joan stated, more to herself.

Bell was checking his phone. 'Remind me, what was it that Sherlock did to get ahead of Larry when we finally picked him up?'

Joan considered the question before answering. 'Do you remember that office we raided, where we had missed him by about ten minutes, not much more? The loan sharks on the south side?'

'Yeah, on the morning before we captured him?' Bell remembered.

'Sherlock found a newspaper, and it looked pretty much irrelevant. It was just a paper that was lying on the desk, but it was open on a page with a story about a local couple who were planning on selling up their business, with all stock included in the sale,' Joan recounted. 'They had had a win on the lottery, so they didn't need to work anymore,' Joan offered. 'By this point Sherlock was convinced, or majorly paranoid, that Larry was taunting him, and taunting his observations so he was being particularly careful not to dismiss anything. Sherlock became transfixed on this story, he felt Larry had purposely left it there for him to find,' Joan remembered.

'Is that why you were the last guys to leave?' Bell smiled.

'By about three hours I think,' Joan found a smile. 'But something about that paper, and that story bothered Sherlock,' Joan added. 'He did his thing, and somehow connected that Larry was going to hit this sale before the auction, and that's where we picked him up, cleaning out the contents of the auction the night before the sale.'

'Larry couldn't help himself,' Bell spoke softly.

'Once Sherlock had obtained the list of items on sale he was able to match them up to past targets of Larry hits, he would have had contacts and would have easily moved the items on, it was too easy an opportunity for Larry to resist,' Joan finished.

'Hold on, is this what we are missing?' Bell suggested suddenly energised. 'Larry has made this personal now, and he's taken Sherlock so easily as if mocking him, so would it be possible that he would take the easy option again in where he has taken him?' Bell was staring at Joan, willing her to make the same connection he'd just made.

Joan considered his words with care, and you could see the sudden change in her demeanour. 'The sale has occurred, so that factory is empty now. How easy would it be for Larry to take Sherlock there? To the place where he himself was captured so easily?'

'It seems to be a familiar theme,' Bell agreed as Joan stood up. 'Whoa, we can't just go there.'

'Why not, Sherlock has been with this crazy man for nearly thirteen hours,' Joan replied quickly.

'Let me talk to the Captain,' Bell requested as he retrieved his phone.

'Why? We went to five potential locations today and you didn't seem too concerned that we might stumble upon them, what's changed?' Joan questioned and noticed Bell look away anxiously.

'We had good information that those buildings were not involved before we even went there,' Bell admitted with a sigh. 'We had to check, but it wasn't high priority,' he added as an explanation.

'I get it, you thought it would be safe for me, and a welcome distraction whilst the real police did the work without having to deal with a hysterical female?' Joan asked pointedly.

'That wasn't it,' Bell defended but even he didn't sound convinced.

'And what have your real police managed whilst we wasted our time?' Joan questioned, and Bell could only shrug.

'They've been looking at street cameras, trying to pick up any unusual activity around these streets in the time around the kidnapping,' Bell explained. 'We have so little to go on, but every person in the precinct is on this Joan, don't ever question that,' Bell insisted.

Joan took a deep breath and composed her thoughts. 'I know,' she finally offered. 'Let me call Gregson, I'll try not to be hysterical when I speak to him.'

Bell rolled his eyes knowing Joan wouldn't let him forget this exchange for a long time.

 **To be continued…**


	2. Chapter 2

**Past Demons**

 **CHAPTER TWO**

The door quickly opened giving Sherlock no time to react as the light stung his eyes. The hood was quickly placed over his head, and he felt his wrists being released from their bounds and then his feet. His hands were quickly rebound behind his back before he was lifted from the chair.

'Tape up his mouth,' Larry ordered sharply.

The hood was roughly removed again, and duct tape placed hastily across Sherlock's mouth. He wanted to ask what was going on, and he desperately tried to listen for any sign of the obvious panic surrounding them. The hood was thrown back over his head, not that it was needed, his eyes were not adjusting quickly to the light after so much time in the dark.

He was being escorted by both men, one of them Vinnie and then the other more absent man. Larry, he assumed, was ahead of them as they dragged him up the metal stairs.

'What did you hear exactly?' Larry asked, as they exited the building, the harsh cold New York air immediately affecting Sherlock, who was at a disadvantage of not being appropriately dressed for the cold New York weather, or barely dressed at all.

'A number of cars parking up, about a street away,' came the reply, it wasn't Vinnie so Sherlock considered that the other man had spent the time since arriving keeping watch outside.

'I made it too easy,' Larry chastised. 'I knew I should have taken that woman as well, just proves Sherlock isn't all that, he had help and I'm betting she was it.'

Sherlock struggled against the man holding him, the simple mention of Joan was enough to make him react. He felt a hard shove that nearly took him off his feet, as he stumbled, the men quickly righted him and forced him to keep moving.

'Lets go through the back buildings, it doesn't look like they are mobilised yet,' Larry whispered, and Sherlock had no choice but to comply. He had considered his options, he knew he could run if he needed to, possibly even remove the hood so he could also see but he had no idea where he was or how soon he'd run into help. Figuring he couldn't escape, he knew instead that he had to leave a clue, something that would let them find the trail, something to help.

Sherlock took a deep breath and purposely tripped himself up, sending one of the men holding him to the ground also. He landed heavily on his right shoulder and ensured his feet were free to kick off any immediately attempts to pick him up. He had heard a scream of pain from the man he had brought down with him, it was Vinnie and he was screaming about his arm being busted. A kick to Sherlock's gut quickly followed, before he felt himself being dragged up by his arms.

'Maniac!' Vinnie yelled towards him and the hood was removed with force, with what must have been his good arm, Vinnie aimed a now familiar hard punch that caught Sherlock squarely across his face. Feeling blood streaming from his nose so he immediately snapped his head to the left hoping some blood would fly across the area surrounding them, and away from the men. Sherlock could only hope it was enough to be seen, along with whatever ground damage he was able to do when he was down. The hood was quickly replaced by the man Sherlock had yet to talk to who was now telling them they had to stay focused and keep moving. Larry had been very quiet, unnerving Sherlock as he was once again dragged, this time upwards, and he realised quickly enough over a fence, with no one catching him as he landed on his front on the other side, winding him momentarily. He had landed on wet grass or mud that he could feel against his bare skin so instinctively he pressed his shoes into the mud as they lifted him up and hoped it would continue to leave a mark as soon as they were back on a hard surface.

The hurried motions continued, and Sherlock had to finally concede that his head was still spinning from being hit, and his nose was still bleeding. He had already felt exhausted before they barged into the room where he was being held, and he felt a lingering need for another shot that would not leave him. By the time they next stopped Sherlock was hanging off the men carrying him, unable to support his own weight.

'Did you have to hit him so hard?' Larry complained, it was the first comment he had made for a long while. 'We'll have plenty of time for that once we are clear of this place.'

'He's busted my arm Andrew, what was I supposed to do?' Vinnie complained, clearly in pain.

'How about use your brain.' The other man responded, clearly not impressed.

They all stopped on hearing the distance sounds of the NYPD entering the abandoned factory they had just left. Yells of NYPD were too clear and too near for comfort.

'Jump that car, Jimmy,' Larry ordered.

Sherlock was aware enough to catch the name. Jimmy could be Jimmy Thompson, a known associate of Larry and if his memory served, a convicted murderer and all-round psycho. Sherlock head was spinning as he felt himself lifted-up once more and thrown into what he soon realised was a trunk of a car. The engine soon sounded and after another minute the car lurched forward, and they were away. Sherlock tried to get comfortable, but with his hands tied behind his back it was near impossible. He hoped he had left sufficient clues to be found, that would lead the hunt to behind the building and the trail they took. Sherlock allowed a small smile for a moment, imagining Joan quickly working out where he was being held. He didn't know how she could possibly know, but knowing the NYPD were not that far behind was a comfort he was going to grab with both hands.

* * *

Bell walked over to the boundary of their search area to address Captain Gregson and Watson. As he approached Joan became anxious to find out what they had found during the initial search.

'He was here,' Bell confirmed. 'He was being kept in a store room downstairs in the basement area,' he explained. 'We found his shirt, just how you described Joan, and it had been ripped,' he paused as he looked at Joan.

'He was here, but he's not here now?' Joan quickly asked, and Bell nodded his head.

Bell took a deep breath before speaking again. 'We also found a used needle, we won't know for sure until its analysed but it's different from the one we found earlier, more commonplace, more associated with local heroin addicts, there was what we suspect to be heroin traces inside,' Bell allowed the news to settle before he continued. Joan couldn't speak as the words sunk in.

'We also found blood, only a small trace but I'm willing to bet it's Sherlocks,' Marcus related. 'The room itself was pretty basic, a chair and some cable ties cut on the floor, a glass and some old takeaway. We will analyse those as well for any additional information.'

'They must have left in a hurry,' Joan stated. 'Why leave so much behind for us to find?' she questioned.

'If they had a look out maybe they saw us before we approached the building,' Gregson considered. 'It would have only been ten minutes head start tops, they could still be close by,' Gregson raised his radio to his mouth. 'All mobile units be on the look-out for any cars attempting to leave the Cookson Industrial area, stop every single one, you all have Larry's picture, stay safe if you suspect.'

'I'll get the ground crew to start searching the area immediately around the warehouse,' Bell stated and quickly moved away.

'That was an amazing call, Joan,' Gregson stated. 'I'm not sure any of my men would have considered this place an option, seriously, good work,' he commended.

'Well once I controlled my hysteria it really became the obvious place,' Joan remarked, and glanced at Gregson who seemed to completely understand her dig.

'I won't send you on anymore distractions,' he said simply.

Joan anxiously looked around the area, it would soon be dawn and the place was eerily quiet for what was usually very noisy during the daytime. 'Knowing he could still be so close by is painful,' Joan admitted.

'The fact they have gone to the effort to move him, and we haven't found a body is a positive at least,' Gregson pointed out.

'Or maybe they've dumped him and done a runner,' Joan offered.

'We will know soon enough,' Gregson sighed.

* * *

Sherlock knew they were now on an open road, he could hear familiar sounds of the city. Without a thought for his safety he began to kick the underside of the trunk, knowing it would be heard and hopefully concerned citizens of the city would notify someone. Either that or Larry would have to stop the car, get out and open the trunk to tell him to stop, which could present an opportunity of being spotted, or a bad escape attempt on his part. He kept kicking as hard as he could.

* * *

'We got something!' a cry was heard from near the back of the building. Both Gregson and Joan hurried over and found a couple of officers examining a patch of land close to a fence.

'What is it?' Gregson asked quickly.

'Blood, it's a splatter pattern, you see it across this patch of concrete,' The officer showed them where to look. 'It isn't a lot but it's definitely recent.'

'It looks like it was projected, from a punch possibly or being spat out,' Joan observed, she looked around the area and saw the conveniently placed boxes by the fence. 'These have recently been dragged to this location, see these marks?' All around her agreed that they were only recently placed. Joan stepped onto them and looked over the fence. 'The grass on this side has been disturbed, and there's footprints, possibly Sherlock's at a guess, something in the way the print seems very deliberately made,' she stressed.

'Let's get around there, check it out,' Gregson ordered and they all moved to find access.

* * *

On hearing talking very close to the car Sherlock realised his plan was working. The car had stopped momentarily, most likely for the lights, and the people on the crossing had heard his kicks. He could hear some questions being directed to the driver and passengers, telling them that something was in the trunk, that there was a noise from the back, but they were clearly being ignored and people were starting to hit the car. Sherlock kicked harder but all too soon the car accelerated away with extreme speed. He could only hope one of them would do the right thing.

The car drove for another minute, at speed before suddenly stopping and in moments Sherlock felt the chill of the night on his skin as the trunk flew opened. The hood covering his head was removed swiftly, and a gun pressed hard into his forehead, he had angered them he supposed.

'Stop, ok, just stop!' Larry yelled, any control he had seemed to be fading fast.

Sherlock's mouth was still covered by the tape, so he couldn't respond and instead he offered an amused expression as best he could. Before he could react, the gun came down hard across his temple and the world immediately went black.

* * *

'Are you ok?' Gregson asked, offering a coffee to Joan who was sat on a step close to the building where Sherlock had been held just an hour earlier.

'I've been better,' Joan admitted taking the coffee. 'It's strange because if anyone can handle something like this it's Sherlock, right?' she offered, and saw Gregson agree with a nod. 'I know that, and weirdly I don't fear that. Knowing him, he's most probably enjoying the chance of attempting escapes and being a nuisance,' she explained. 'What I fear most isn't what they do to him, now I know they haven't just killed him, it's the aftermath, how it'll affect him, the recovery from something like this,' she closed her eyes for a few seconds.

'If they have forced heroin into him, that's pretty low,' Gregson considered. 'Also, we've found blood at two locations, not loads but still, and I know he's tough but surprisingly he's still human and he can push people to breaking point by just looking at them in that way he does. I just hope he doesn't push too far.'

Joan nodded her head knowingly, taking a deep breath. 'It was one needle, if it was just one dose, I mean it's not perfect but there's a good chance it won't send him over the edge, he's been sober for a couple of years, his system should have a small resistance against its immediate affects.'

'Do you think that could be Larry's plan?' Gregson considered. 'We know Larry has an arrogance, thinks he's the smartest man on the planet, so he wants to reduce his equal back to nothing more than a drug crazed addict?' Gregson asked.

'Possibly, and it might be the easiest way to defeat him,' Joan feared her own words, the easy way was something Larry was well known for. 'Ok, what I said before scrub that, now I'm really concerned,' Joan stressed as she realised getting Sherlock dependant on drugs again was the easiest form of attack and the most likely plan.

'Sorry, I didn't mean to-' Gregson began but was interrupted by Bell.

'OK, we got something,' Bell stated urgently. 'We just got a number of calls eight blocks from here of a car that had sounds 'similar' to someone kicking the inside of the trunk, and we have a plate,' Bell exclaimed. 'We also have a photo and video of the incident, it has to be Sherlock.'

'Let's go!' Gregson threw his coffee away, and Joan did likewise as the hurried back towards the car, Bell following close behind.

* * *

With a sharp pain in his head Sherlock slowly became aware of his surroundings, quickly figuring out that he had been unconscious and only vaguely remembering why. He blinked his eyes a number of times before realising the hood had once again been placed over his head. With his mouth still taped and his hands secured behind his back he was in no position to attempt anything.

Focusing on what he could determine about his situation, Sherlock knew they were outside and he was freezing cold still without his shirt, there was a damp feel to the air. It was early morning, he figured, by the lack of noise he could hear around him. He could hear birds calling out in song, but it was so quiet otherwise, a dullness was in the air, the noise of an awake city was absence. Sherlock could hear echoes reverberating off the buildings from their footsteps, they must be in some backstreets, possibly an industrial area with tall brick buildings located in close proximity.

The smells caught him, that familiar odour of the docks, they had travelled quite a way he realised. They had stopped walking, and Sherlock couldn't work out why, he had two hands holding him firmly at the top of his arms. He was really starting to feel the chill of the early morning, but his awaken state hadn't been noticed so far, he was still letting his weight remain leaning of the man holding him up but he was starting to shake.

'We're in,' a voice suddenly proclaimed, and a clatter of metal was heard.

'Let's get inside and get locked down, I've had enough of this cat and mouse nonsense,' Larry spoke sharply. They stepped inside, but it was only a small relief to Sherlock who was desperately trying to stop shivering. They dragged him down a narrow corridor, it could barely fit the two men carrying him so he was now at an odd angle as they adjusted.

'What's the plan, boss?' Vinnie was then heard to ask.

'Get that waste of space tied up,' Larry directed, and Sherlock felt himself being moved roughly forward and thrown against a wall and he couldn't stop the muffled yelp he omitted. His shoulder took the full force, and Sherlock was reminded of the previous bruising he most likely had there after tripping himself up a few hours earlier.

'I see sleeping beauty is now awake, no doubt been faking it for a while, correct?' Larry asked calmly. 'You missed a lot of excitement,' he added. 'I'm starting to think you are a fraud, Holmes, and it's the people around you with the brains, and you're just their puppet.'

Sherlock couldn't respond, his mouth was still taped up and it was really feeling sore now. His throat was dry, painfully so and he was trying to ignore the hunger pains that were growing. With his face covered he couldn't even glare at them, so instead he just tried to get as comfortable as a hard-concrete floor and wall allowed him to be. He felt his ankles once again being bounded together, and he was forcibly moved further along the wall until he was in the corner.

'So, the plan,' Larry declared. He still had the two men with him as far as Sherlock could hear. 'Vinnie, I think it's time we make a bigger impression on our guest, his actions in the trunk caused us a great deal of inconvenience tonight,' Larry stated. 'We can't let out guard down again.'

'Why don't we just kill him now, and move on?'

Sherlock reasoned that it was Jimmy talking, he hadn't said much but it clearly wasn't Vinnie.

'It's not a bad idea,' Larry agreed and seemed to be considering it for a moment. 'I had hoped to have some fun, after all these years to finally have the chance to show Holmes exactly what happens to those who try to outsmart me these days, he's had too much fun at my expense for one lifetime.'

Sherlock frowned upon hearing another statement that seemed a bit over the top for what he'd actually done to this man. Was Larry possibly so deluded that he now actually believed he was a much bigger threat than he actually had been to date? His gut started to churn and not just with hunger, he was missing something.

'Boss, we had the entire NYPD on our tails just now,' Vinnie reminded him. 'We've lost most of our taskforce to the Spanish opportunity, so is he really worth it? Let's just get ourselves to Spain and start building bridges till this all dies down!'

'See, Vinnie, that's the thing that now intrigues me,' Larry proclaimed as started to pace around the room, Sherlock hearing his footsteps. 'He's not a cop, he's a consultant, an outsider, yet the NYPD are falling over themselves to 'save' him,' Larry stressed. 'And well you know me and the NYPD, our long-term friendship, it gives me an even bigger incentive to my original plans, because I now know it will hurt them more, if I really hurt Holmes,' Larry then spoke, his voice suddenly sounding chilling to Sherlock's ears.

'With respect boss, there's better ways of fucking the NYPD up,' Jimmy interjected. 'Ways that don't mean we are their number one targets,' he added, with the sound of a can opening being heard, quickly followed by loud gulps.

'I get it,' Larry responded. 'Tonight, agreed we got a little too close for comfort and it's not our thing, we don't get this close to the cops, we don't garner this attention, but this man,' Larry paused. 'This is different, this is personal, and you will just have to deal with that.'

'He's a toy you mean? Your stupid obsession, a revenge for something that was totally out of your control,' Jimmy raged. 'These antics today, they've slowed us down, lost us most of our team, Andrew, this is not cool! You're supposed to be on the run, so fucking act like it!' Jimmy stressed, becoming much more vocal Sherlock considered.

Larry could be heard taking a deep breath. 'Jimmy, he's the reason I'm even here, why we are all here on this path,' Larry stated calmly. 'He's the reason I got caught in the first place and why we are all not living off the profits of what would have been a great steal the other night,' he said in a low but considered voice. 'Do you honestly think that, with us being on the run, Holmes will turn a blind eye in the future? You can't trust him, I know this first hand, he'll say whatever he needs to say to get what he wants, he's a spoilt brat that needs to pay, its clear he needs to be taught that lesson once and for all.'

Sherlock was even more confused now. Was Larry just bigging him up to get Jimmy on side, making out he knew more about him than he possibly could? He wanted to argue, state his version of events and play down his actual role in the arrest of Larry, he really was getting far too much credit he believed.

It was now Jimmy's turn to sigh. 'Boss, greatest respect to you and all but we do bad things, we steal, we are criminals,' He stated loudly, and Sherlock couldn't resist the loud exclamation of muffled mirth at Jimmy's honesty. There was a pause and Sherlock figured his input was not taken well. 'It doesn't matter what we do to this man, the cops will still be trying to stop us,' Jimmy finally concluded. 'The longer we keep this man in our company, the cops will be knocking and generally that's a bad idea if you've just escaped custody.'

'You don't get it Jimmy, and I understand,' Larry simply spoke. 'You are not like me, or indeed like him,' he stated, and Sherlock imagined he was being pointed at in that moment. 'This man, like me, gets obsessions that to the lay man cannot be explained. We are in his sights now, we might as well just hand ourselves in now because this man will not stop until we are where he thinks we should be, that's the difference here, Jimmy to any other situation we've been in. But right now, he's in my sights, I'm owning the board and I have an opportunity to do what's right for us.'

'So, by that reasoning just kill him now and let's get out of here!' Jimmy yelled.

'But we always have you, Andrew, and you're smarter than any man I know,' Vinnie chipped in. 'We could still do what we do, he's no threat to you, Andrew,' he added.

'That may well be true, Vinnie, but I'm getting too old to be having to think of not only ways in which we can continue to live off our trade, but also how we stay ahead of him,' Larry explained. 'I know I am smarter, but I know from experience that he's a worthy enemy, and I just don't have the energy anymore. I want to destroy him so he's no longer effective, so he can no longer do what he does and giving us our freedom again to do what we wish and Holmes being very much alive to witness it first hand, to know daily that he failed!'

'Killing him does that just as well,' Jimmy reasoned.

'Allow me this vanity project, Jimmy, just this once, and I promise we can kill the next pest who starts buzzing around us,' Larry mocked.

Jimmy smirked. 'Ok, you have two days to do whatever you intend to do, and if I don't think it's enough he's dead, ok?' Jimmy stated clearly. 'We can't afford the heat or any risk of being exposed and we need to join us with the team again, before its too late.'

Sherlock heard hands being shaken and backs patted. Great, he thought, his life had been reduced to nothing more than a vanity project.

'Get this place secured, cover all tracks, we got to play this smart and lay low for a couple days,' Larry ordered, and Sherlock heard the men depart quickly.

If nothing else, Sherlock considered, Andrew Larry had the total respect of the men he had working for him. They could speak freely without threat of being harmed, which was commendable, but they also trusted him and his word. Larry was proving to be an interesting distraction in this whole ordeal. It was a fascinating insight into the mad man he had been trying to deduce for a number of weeks.

Moments later he felt the hood being removed, and he blinked as he looked up at Larry glaring down at him. Sherlock was helpless to react as Larry moved to put a muscled arm around his throat, capturing him in the nook of his elbow giving himself enough leverage to partially lift Sherlock up and start dragging him solo. With his bounds and mouth taped, Sherlock had few resources to fight back so he tried to make it as comfortable on him as possible, which in fact was impossible.

He was dragged to a back office, with no windows or furniture of any type, and shoved across the bare floorboards unable to cushion the fall. Now that he could look at Larry, he simply glared at him from his position on the floor. Larry appeared to be considering his options, as he secured the door and started to walk slowly around him. Thoughts flashed through Sherlock's mind about tripping him up, headbutting him, attempting an escape but even he knew with his abilities it would not end nicely for him. Co-operation was probably the best policy at this point.

Larry reached down and pulled the tape quickly off Sherlock's mouth and it stung like hell, the burning remained as Larry started to talk.

'You heard all that?' Larry checked, and Sherlock nodded, his eyes never leaving Larry. 'I've got to ask, even if irrelevant now, would you have taken option B at any point?' Sherlock remained silent and simply shook his head slowly.

'Thought so,' Larry reacted. 'I want to hurt you so bad right now, that trick with the trunk almost worked, even tied up and in a locked trunk you almost defeated us, but only almost,' Larry smiled now. 'I just can't work out if you're actually that smart of just stupidly lucky, your privilege knows no bounds.'

Sherlock wanted to answer, once again he was alluding to his status, but he wasn't sure why? Was it because of his accent, was he simply assuming he was some poor little rich boy, because he was English? Ok, to some maybe he was, money was no object, he couldn't deny this, but it felt off in this context. Sherlock decided to stay silent, he could tell his lack of response was not sitting well with Larry, and Sherlock knew he was good at sulking and how it bothered a lot of people.

Larry had started to examine his surroundings, the small office or store room was long cleared out, but some fixtures remained. 'Vinnie, get in here,' he suddenly shouted, and Vinnie was by his side in moments. 'That pipe, is it secure, strong?'

Sherlock glanced up at the pipe, it was coming out the wall then went up through the ceiling panels, a sort of L shape, he already knew what Larry was going to ask as he saw Vinnie literally hanging off it to prove it could take the weight of an adult male.

'Secure him to it,' Larry simply said with a dismissive gesture.

Vinnie approached Sherlock. 'Don't give me an excuse to hit you again.' Vinnie warned. 'And unlucky, you didn't bust my arm like I thought, so I can still do you harm when I need to,' he made his point by roughly lifting Sherlock up by his arms. He quickly sliced through the cable ties connecting Sherlock's wrists before pushing him the short distance under the low pipe. 'Lift your arms,' he ordered to Sherlock whilst already pushing them both upwards, with Larry's help Sherlock was quickly secured with his hands now above his head, his feet thankfully still touched the ground if he tip toed but pretty soon this position would not be fun.

'Good work, Vinnie, now I can make some progress,' Larry proclaimed with glee.

'No problem, boss,' Vinnie said before leaving the room.

Larry looked at Sherlock, as if observing his current mood. 'These tattoos are odd, they make no sense,' he observed, and didn't expect Sherlock to respond as he continued. 'You clearly work out,' and Sherlock jerked as Larry pressed his hand against Sherlock's bicep. 'I'm sorry, do you not like that?' Larry asked amused. 'See you can't stop me,' he added and to further antagonise, he began purposely feeling Sherlock's torso, his shoulders, neck, chest and ribs, growing more amused by the discomfort Sherlock couldn't hide. 'You know, I must confess,' he continued, and to make his point he stroked the side of Sherlock's face. 'When I imagined this meeting I didn't think you'd be so strong, I thought I'd be up against a runt, a nerdy little guy but remove that shirt and it tells a completely different story, I really shouldn't be surprised but here I am, surprised.'

Sherlock continued to battle his emotions, keeping them in check. He didn't want to give anything else away, but he'd been momentarily taken by surprise. He couldn't let Larry play mind games on him, but the more Larry spoke the more it agitated Sherlock, there was something he was missing but it wasn't making itself known to him.

'You trouble me, Holmes,' Larry then spoke after a small silence. 'I just fear my normal torture techniques will not work on you, and I really do need to destroy you, but I think you'd enjoy it, strange how things turn out,' he considered more to himself than to Sherlock.

Sherlock just rolled his eyes and focused on being prepared for whatever was coming his way. Larry seemed to be mulling things over now, like an artist prior to them taking paint to the canvas, he seemed to be examining his subject matter, and concluding the best approach for a perfect work of art, which in this case seemed to be a total-destruction. Either way, Sherlock considered, if Larry didn't do a good enough job, Jimmy was lining himself up to finish the job if required.

'Your mind is your weapon,' Larry thought out loud. 'I know what I have to do, please excuse me.'

Sherlock watched as Larry left the room. The ache in his shoulders was starting to build, as well as several other things that were starting to claw at Sherlock's resolve. He tested his restraints above his head, ignoring the cutting pain the ties were causing to his wrists. Manoeuvring his hands, he grabbed hold of the pipe and with care he pulled his legs up, his core upper body strength was something he worked on a lot and it took little effort to get his head touching the ceiling. With his legs only tied together he had at least one means of defence if needed, and that was a comforting thought.

* * *

The blue hue illuminated the street with quick flashes of light, as Joan was escorted towards the vehicle. She saw the open trunk and her eyes were immediately drawn to the soaked interior, the stain of red colouring the once grey interior was hard to ignore, as she stepped closer.

'The labs have samples, but I'm pretty sure it's his blood,' Gregson softly spoke. 'The dents on this underside support the stories we heard of someone kicking from the inside.

Joan absently looked at the damage, but she wasn't interested in what had happened, she wanted to know where they were now. 'It's happening like before, arriving once Larry has already gone,' she remarked.

'The first responders said they ran in that direction, dragging Sherlock with them,' Gregson gestured to the docks. 'No boats have been launched, every vessel is accounted for,' he added.

'They are in there somewhere,' Joan commented and began to walk in the direction Gregson had indicated, Gregson followed.

'We are covering the area, if they are there we will find them,' Gregson said to reassure her.

At the entrance Joan scanned the area, there were a few work sheds for the boats and then a larger area of smaller brick buildings in the distance that would have stored whatever stock came into the docks. Most of the buildings appeared to be occupied with businesses, as far as Joan could tell, but the density and sheer number of them could provide adequate hiding opportunities.

'They are still here,' Joan stated. 'The amount of blood in that trunk they must have hit Sherlock pretty hard, he'd be a dead weight, they couldn't have travelled for too long carrying him as well,' she considered. 'Tell me again how they managed to escape the pursuit cars and pursuing officers?' she then asked pointedly towards Gregson.

Gregson offered a frustrated glance. 'I won't know for sure till I review the reports of those officers in charge and the logs, but seems they simply got outpaced,' he offered.

'I'm not stupid, Captain,' Joan spoke with care. 'I'm aware that Sherlock is not everybody's favourite person, and there would be a few who feel he's had this coming.'

'Joan,' Gregson interrupted. 'Regardless of what may have been said or done previously, no one wants to see Sherlock hurt or worse, I won't have that suggested about my team,' he stated firmly. 'Let's not go there.'

Joan took a deep breath and considered her reply. 'I want to be aware of those reports when you have them, I want to be able to dismiss these thoughts myself, I want to know exactly why a squad of pursuit vehicles failed to capture that car and then they subsequently evaded capture when they were carrying an unconscious man, the cops even said they saw them.'

Gregson watched as Joan walked further into the docks area, and he knew deep down that it was likely those reports, and logs would tell him something he didn't want to discover. He looked around the area, at the various men and women actively searching for information, and sincerely hoped he didn't have to remind them of their duty.

 **To be continued…**


	3. Chapter 3

**Past Demons**

 **CHAPTER THREE**

The door opened, and Larry walked in, he glanced over to Sherlock. 'Having fun?'

Sherlock just offered a sneer. He was conserving energy and trying not to focus on the many pains his body was struggling with, as he prepared for an opportunity.

'It's quite busy out there, your friends are all over the place,' Larry remarked. 'My boys have done a good job in covering our tracks, it's like we're not even here.'

Sherlock wasn't interested in anything Larry had to say, remaining completely focused on looking for that one moment, his one chance.

'I wasn't able to bring my full bag of goodies I'm afraid, been a bit rushed,' he remarked as he removed a small vile from his pocket. 'But this one is a good one, I never leave home without this one.' Larry approached Sherlock from the side, and grabbed the top of his head.

Sherlock adjusted his hands above him, so he was holding the pipe, positioning them so he could deliver the maximum blow with his legs. He needed Larry to be stood directly in front of him, or as close as, so he waited, not really listening to the man or paying attention to him. When the ice-cold liquid suddenly hit his left eyeball, Sherlock was suddenly shaken out of his concentration, as he violently thrashed around, trying to shake his head and the liquid away. With no idea of the consequences, Sherlock blinked his eyes rapidly to try and remove the liquid that had been applied.

'Does it sting?' Larry asked with joy. 'Now the other eye,' he stated.

Sherlock struggled to control his breathing, the shock of the sudden application had completely thrown him, how could he not have seen that coming? It took him a moment to realise that Larry was exactly where he needed to be, stood right in front of him. He made sure his hands were holding on to the pipe firmly, and he ignored the liquid the second time as it splashed into his right eye, he only had one thought now and he had to be quick.

Before Larry could react, Sherlock lifted his body up, and his legs so they were square onto Larry body and with all the strength he could gather he kicked as hard as he could. Larry went flying backwards with force, unable to stop himself and seemingly taken by surprise, that he had no time to adjust for the fall he was taking. He crashed with force against the back wall, and his head smashed into the plaster, leaving a mark.

Sherlock took some deep breaths, he couldn't hear any complaints from Larry and for the moment there was silence. It was then that Sherlock realised his sight was no longer sharp, everything was blurred, a small price to pay he reasoned before the door smashed open.

'What the hell!' Vinnie rushed to his boss's side. 'Andrew, Andrew, wake up!'

Jimmy quickly followed Vinnie into the room and stopped. Sherlock by this point could only see shapes but braced himself as Jimmy rushed closer to him, and he felt his body slam into the wall behind him. 'That's it, game over!' Jimmy threatened.

'He's not waking up,' Vinnie stressed.

'Forget him, we're leaving but not before we make sure this loser knows not to mess with us again!' Jimmy fumed. 'Hold him, make sure he can't move,' he then instructed to Vinnie.

Sherlock felt Vinnie grab his legs and he was twisted round, so he was facing the wall, the ties around his wrists dug in even more but he suspected the worst was to come. A sharp pain across his back followed, and a further four in quick succession happened. He figured Jimmy had located a belt or wire, his back now stung with pain.

'Cut him down,' Jimmy ordered. 'Let's finish him!'

Sherlock felt his body collapse to the ground, his energy levels were shot, the pain in his back all consuming. He couldn't even see the attacks to protect himself, as Jimmy and Vinnie started to punch and kick, endless attacks disorientated Sherlock as he found himself between both men who clearly needed to vent their frustrations on someone. The world started to go dark, as he succumbed to the beating.

* * *

'Hands above your heads!' Marcus Bell yelled at the two men who had been keeping to the shadows. They had tailed them for 5 minutes before it was confirmed that they met the description of the two accomplices of Larry.

Both men were compliment and followed the instructions, but they were clearly angry at being spotted. They had nothing on them but the clothes they wore, as they were read their rights and handcuffed.

Before they were led away Marcus stood before them. 'Earn some good will, tell us where Larry is, where you've been hiding.' Neither man spoke, choosing to play dumb. 'This offer will not be offered again,' Marcus warned but neither man was forthcoming. 'So, you split? You fell out, can you tell me why?' Marcus asked but already knew he wasn't going to get a response. 'Take them away, we'll talk more at the precinct.'

Marcus frowned, and addressed the men who were awaiting their instructions. 'We work back from this spot, we knew they came from that direction,' Marcus ordered. 'We have to assume that Larry is holed up very close by, and those men looked angry, we can assume that when they left their cover they were not bothered in covering their tracks so anything unusual, we investigate, follow your gut,' he stated.

As the men moved out Marcus turned to find Gregson and Watson watching on. Joan stepped forward with a small smile. 'I take it they didn't give up any information?'

'Nothing,' Marcus sighed. 'I doubt they'll talk, but it was clear when we caught up with them they were making a break for it, we just don't know how far they had travelled before we caught them.'

'Makes you wonder what happened back there to make them split like that,' Gregson offered.

'They'd been fighting, they had blood all over their shirts, and their hands were battered,' Marcus explained. 'But they were clean, there were no marks or bruises on their faces,' he frowned.

'Whoever was the target didn't fight back, or couldn't,' Joan spoke with concern, and looking at both Gregson and Marcus in turn, she saw they shared her concern.

'It must have been a major fall out for them to dump Larry, whilst this area is crawling with cops,' Gregson considered as they began to walk back towards the search zone. 'Why do I think Sherlock must have had a part to play in that friction? We all know his people skills,' Without words it was clear to see from the expressions that it was most likely, as they joined the search to find their friend.

* * *

The movement jolted him awake, and Sherlock needed a moment to realised he was being moved and he started to struggle as best he could against it. Now his hands had been untied he could make a better attempt, but his head was still spinning, and his eyes were not co-operating, so his attempts were weak at best. A sudden movement found him being pushed into the wall and Sherlock couldn't contain the scream, as his wounds on his back flared up on impact.

A hand was quickly placed over his mouth, as Larry froze. Sherlock couldn't figure out why as his senses continued to swim, all he could feel were his numerous injuries making themselves known to him.

'FREEZE!'

A new voice Sherlock finally realised through the haze. He felt Larry drag him up, and an arm placed across his chest to restrain him, a cold metallic object pressing into his temple.

'I will kill him, I have nothing to lose, do I?' Larry sneered. 'Back off, right now BACK OFF!' Larry yelled.

Sherlock was breathing heavily in Larry hold. Every injury seemed to be taking its toll on him now and he was struggling to stay conscious, he knew he was burning up. He wasn't sure if things had just met an impasse, or if he'd just no longer had the ability to concentrate. He still felt the cool metal against his head, but it didn't concern him, right now he just wanted to sleep and in a few more seconds that's exactly what he succumbed to.

* * *

'Captain, we've found him, Larry, sir,' A young cop stressed as he caught his breath, it was clear he had been running to ensure Gregson heard as soon as possible. 'He's resisting arrest.'

'Take me there,' Gregson ordered and with Joan and Marcus they picked up the pace. They arrived at one of the storage units, very unassuming but now surrounded by cops. 'Update me,' Gregson ordered to the cop in charge.

'We were just here not really seeing anything unusual, but then we heard someone cry out,' the cop remembered. 'The door was unlocked so we stepped inside and saw a low light on out back, we found Larry there, with Sherlock Holmes. He's holding a gun to Sherlock's head, resisting arrest, says he's got nothing to lose.'

Gregson sensed Watson's reaction and faced Marcus. 'Make sure she stays out here, no one is to come in, understand,' Gregson saw Marcus understood and ignored the glare Joan was giving him. 'I'm going in, I'll talk to him.'

Gregson moved quickly and on reaching the room he slowed down and considered his next move. 'Larry, its Captain Gregson,' he called out. 'I'm coming in, you want to talk, we can talk.'

Larry was silent for a moment before simply replying. 'Come in.'

Gregson slowly moved forward, scanning the room as he entered. He saw blood on the floor and then he saw Sherlock, unconscious in Larry hold. From that distance he couldn't tell if the consulting detective was even still alive, he looked in a very bad way. Blood covered his face, which was puffy and beaten, his torso didn't fare better with visible bruising covering what was exposed. Larry still held a gun into Sherlock's temple, but it was clear he was starting to struggle holding him up. It seemed Larry has also taken a blow to the head, seeing dried blood that had run down the right side of his head.

'Let Sherlock go,' Gregson asked. 'Don't make this worse.'

'Why should I care, I'll never see the light of day again and I have so many reasons to hate this man,' Larry growled.

'I swear he does grow on you eventually,' Gregson offered lightly and saw for a moment Larry respond with the briefest of smiles.

'I never wanted to kill him,' Larry stated, and with those words he released his hold on Sherlock, who collapsed heavily onto the floor. 'So, what now?'

'Drop the gun, and put your hands where I can see them,' Gregson ordered, and as Larry complied the cops moved in to secure him.

'I under-estimated how much the NYPD would miss this guy,' Larry offered before he was led away. 'I mean seriously, was the entire force just on our case this past day?'

'I think you under-estimated how much we really want you off our streets, Larry,' Gregson sneered, and gestured for him to be led away. 'Get the paramedics in here, NOW!' Gregson then barked as he hurried to Sherlock's side. 'Hey, Sherlock, Sherlock?' he attempted, but there was nothing from Sherlock as he checked the man's pulse, it was weak, and his breathing was audibly laboured. 'Helps coming, hang in there, just hang in there,' and as he spoke the words two paramedics rushed in and began to check their patient, as Gregson gave them the space they needed.

'Captain,' Joan hurried forward, as Gregson stepped outside to get some air. Gregson was trying to reconcile what he had seen, Sherlock was in a bad way, a really bad way and he was barely keeping his emotions in check. He'd seen some tough stuff in his years, but it always hurt more when it was someone so close to him. Sherlock didn't deserve that, not just for being smarter than Larry, Sherlock was just doing what he does best. Gregson wanted to lash out, to vent his anger but he knew he had to reassure Watson, he just had no idea how.

'Let me in, let me go and help, you know I can,' Joan requested, and Gregson knew his manner was adding to her concern.

Gregson finally composed himself and Joan just looked at him. 'Joan, he's alive, just, but he's alive,' he started to explain. 'He's been beaten pretty bad, I think most likely from those two guys we picked up earlier, Larry has no damage to his hands,' Gregson took some needed breaths. 'Let the paramedics do what they do, he's in good hands.'

'I need to see him, sorry,' Joan pushed past the first cop and Gregson indicated to let her through. He knew she had seen much worse in her days as an ER doctor, but he also knew how much she cared for Sherlock, and he wasn't convinced she was ready for the sight that was about to greet her.

* * *

Joan moved as fast as she could through the building, with cops directing her as she got closer. On reaching the room she stopped, and just stared to take the scene in. Sherlock was in the recovery position, one of the medics was giving him air having hooked him up already to an IV and the other medic was trying to patch up the worst of his wounds. With his back to her, Joan saw the seeping wounds on his back and hurried forward. 'Let me help, I'm a doctor,' she stated and reached for the gloves before hurriedly applying pads to assist the medics, they seemed appreciative of her help. 'What are your observations?' Joan asked, she hadn't been able to observe all of his injuries, but she figured by the care they were taking he was not completely stable enough to be moved yet.

'There's a number of injuries that we can see with the naked eye, we have to best guess the internal ones,' the medic hurriedly answered, as he connected a mobile heart monitor. 'He's showing signs of internal bleeding so we're moving fast to get him stable, we're going to make sure we move him with care, just in case,' he added.

'Good,' Joan said as she finished work on his back. She moved swiftly to his front and couldn't help the intake of breath on seeing how beaten he looked, his face was barely recognisable. The trolley arrived, and Joan continued to assist with the preparation to move Sherlock as carefully as possible, helping to secure a brace around his neck. 'Are we ready, one, two, three,' Joan led, and he was quickly transferred to the trolley. 'Wait,' she instructed before they moved him to the waiting ambulance. 'Sherlock, Sherlock can you hear me?' Joan asked loudly, whilst pinching him to try and rouse him. To her surprise he stirred, it was only slight but enough to encourage Watson. 'Sherlock come on, open your eyes, come on talk to me.'

'Watson,' he slurred as his head rolled slightly even though restricted by the brace that had been applied.

'Stay still,' Joan instructed sharply. 'We got you, Sherlock, and you're going to hospital, no complaints,' Joan couldn't hide her relief, as she smiled. Sherlock barely responded, but he still reacted and that's all she needed to see at this point.

* * *

Time wasn't a factor anymore as Joan sat in a chair in a darkened room. She was alone for the moment, taking the time to appreciate the silence after a very stressful few hours. Tiredness was threatening to overcome her, but she was determined to be awake for when he came out of surgery.

The door slowly opened, and she saw Gregson step inside, holding two cups of coffee. Without words she accepted the one offered to her and watched as the captain sat down. They didn't have to speak to know there was no news yet, and Joan felt that they had nothing to really talk about right now.

Gregson fidgeted for a moment and then put his coffee down to cool for a bit. 'Joan,' he spoke up and Joan glanced over. 'About before, with the pursuit vehicles,' he ventured, and Joan simply looked at him. 'I want you to know that I will be fully looking into that incident, especially in light of how things have turned out,' he added.

'That, had they done their job, they could have intercepted Sherlock before he was nearly beaten to death?' Joan said sternly.

'We don't know the facts,' Gregson countered. 'But I do agree that something seems off,' he quickly added.

'Captain,' Joan softened her voice. 'I'm not blind to some of the things Sherlock does,' she sighed. 'He's not doing this to win friends, and his methods can be hostile to others, so I do get it,' she explained. 'I just can't believe they might think that low of him that they jeopardised a chance to put an end to this sooner, and one with a very different outcome.'

Gregson was nodding his head. 'I am sure that no one wanted this outcome. I do know that seeing what those guys did to Sherlock has hit a few of them hard, I keep getting text messages,' he gestured with a small smile to his phone and Joan could see a number of unread texts.

The door opened, and Joan smiled on seeing Marcus Bell enter, he'd gone back to the precinct to interview the two guys they had picked up before finding Larry.

'So, they gave us very little,' Marcus offered as he took a seat next to Gregson. 'How's Sherlock?'

'In surgery still,' Gregson answered. 'Did they say anything about motive or were they purely henchmen hired by Larry.'

'It's hard to tell on that, they seem strangely loyal to Larry but we can find no solid connection, and they are not offering one,' Marcus frowned. 'We can connect them to this, the blood on their shirts is Sherlock's and the injuries they sustained on their hands are as a direct result of punching something, so we have enough to charge them as conspirators.'

'Good,' Gregson sounded relieved.

'The biggest thing they revealed is that they didn't attack Larry,' Marcus then offered, and could see the confused looks on both Gregson's and Watson's faces. 'They say it was Sherlock's work.'

'Sherlock?' Joan checked with surprise. 'He was tied up and beaten, how could he possibly cause that head injury to Larry?'

'It seems they strung him up in that room, using the pipe that is exposed below the ceiling,' Marcus explained. 'They didn't secure his feet to the wall, just to each other, so when Larry was right in front of Sherlock they figure he must have lifted his legs up and kicked him back against the wall, where the momentum smashed Larry head and he was out cold, that's why they ran, they thought he was dead.'

'He's spent a lot of time lately on those monkey bars,' Joan remembered. 'It's as if he knew this would happen one day,' she briefly smiled, but quickly stopped on seeing the doctor enter the room.

The three of them stood up, and momentarily feared the worst as you always do in these situations but when the doctor smiled they relaxed a little bit. 'The patient is in recovery, he'll be brought back to the room shortly,' the doctor explained, his voice calm and reassuring. 'We have fixed the internal injuries, and he's reacted well to all the treatments so far. He's no longer in any immediate danger,' he continued.

'Thank you,' Joan released the breath she'd been holding.

'He has a long road to a full recovery, a lot of his injuries will need time to heal,' the doctor spoke with care. 'We are concerned about his eyes, we couldn't get a reaction from them but it's not an injury we'd usually expect to see in cases like this, so we will assess that in greater detail when he is awake,' the doctor offered.

'His eyes were fine, he's never had any issues with them, 20/20 vision always,' Joan showed her concern.

'It could be a physiological reaction to the trauma, or it might be a reaction to a toxin,' The doctor tried to reason. 'We won't know for sure until he wakes up and we can do some proper tests.'

'Can we see him?' Joan asked, and the doctor gestured for her and the others to follow him. They walked the white corridors for a couple of minutes before reaching the recovery room and was led to Sherlock's bed.

Joan took a moment to compose her reaction to the scene. Sherlock was surrounded by machines, and even though it was a familiar sight to her from her past, she didn't like seeing Sherlock amongst it. His body was plastered with various bandages and the skin that was exposed was now a nasty shade of black and green in most places. He was more recognisable now, she considered, the swellings in his face had gone down considerably from when she first saw him. His lower lip sported a nasty wound, she could see stitches on other areas of his face and idly wondered how many of those wounds would leave a mark, she hated thinking that this could change his looks.

'He's looking better,' Gregson finally spoke to break the silence between them.

'Yeah,' Joan agreed, continuing to observe him. Noting for the first time the slight indentations around his wrists, how sore they looked and knew cable ties were the only item that could have caused that kind of injury. 'At least he's breathing unaided, that's always a plus in these cases,' Joan spoke with authority. 'His vitals are also strong,' she added looking at the machines.

Gregson moved closer to Joan and before she could say anymore he simply embraced her. At first Joan didn't know what he was doing but the moment he was holding her she found herself responding, not realising how much she appreciated his hold in that moment. She realised she was in shock and once again Gregson had clocked it. Sherlock, her best friend was black and blue in front of her, and it just wasn't fair, he didn't deserve any of this she was repeating to herself as her eyes began to water. 'He's safe and in the best place he can be,' Gregson offered softly.

Joan finally pulled away and Marcus offered her a tissue, which she took and wiped her eyes. 'Anyone would think we were a married couple,' she tried to joke but it sounded sadder than she intended.

'You don't have to explain anything to us Joan, we know you two are close and we're not thinking anything else,' he reassured her.

A nurse approached them. 'We're about to prepare Mr Holmes to be returned to his room, would it be ok if you return there and we will be with you soon enough,' she asked with a smile.

Without needing to be asked again they moved out of recovery and headed back to room. Joan couldn't deny that her mind was processing a thousand thoughts in light of her reaction, and with Gregson offering her a hug to comfort her.

'This must seem very strange to you both,' Joan spoke up and checked the reactions of her friends. 'This relationship I have with Sherlock.'

'It's unique, I give you that,' Marcus offered with a grin.

'I think it's great, a man and a woman who are comfortable enough with each other to be best friends, with no complications,' Gregson observed. 'I can't deny I'm not a little bit jealous of what you two have.'

'Sherlock is the lucky one,' Marcus spoke up. 'Tell me, has there ever been any possibility, any moment when you two might have become something else?'

'Not really, at least I don't remember a time it was ever like that,' Joan confidently returned. 'Did I ever tell you that the first time I met him, he was shirtless and declared his undying love for me?'

'What?' Gregson checked with a smile. 'Your very first meeting?'

'He was merely reciting some lines from a film, I caught him doing his memory tests, long story but I didn't know that at the time and yes, I literally just met him; and this declaration of love was his first words to me,' Joan smiled at the memory.

'Now I'm even more surprised you two are not something more, surely you couldn't resist that?' Marcus mocked.

'If truth be told he's very easy on the eye when he's not being, well, Sherlock,' Joan explained, and saw the looks they were both throwing her. 'Seriously, he works out, you must know this,' she paused as they looked at her with amusement. 'Shut up,' she snapped and walked ahead of them towards his room, their laughter making her smile as she did so.

* * *

Confusion overwhelmed his senses as he became aware of new surroundings. He'd just been back in London, but even at the time he'd known he'd been reliving a moment in his past, he knew it hadn't been real. Strangely he hadn't cared, it was nice, familiar and it had been during good times. That period just before he changed, before he'd lost control. Young, footloose and carefree, running through London like some superhero taking down the bad guys of England's premiere city.

But those images and memories had filtered away as a new reality became aware to him. He heard the machines, could smell the very distinctive aroma of disinfectant and felt the crisp sharp sheets against his skin. He was in hospital, and he hated hospitals. He was hurt, he figured, due to the fact that 1. He hadn't managed to stop them bringing him to hospital. 2. He had woken up in hospital and if he really needed a 3rd reason, he couldn't remember why he was hurt which was never a good sign.

'Sherlock?'

Her voice, Joan's voice, it sounded concerned. He slowly opened his eyes, but he couldn't see anything, only light and some shapes, panic must have cross his features as Joan spoke quickly.

'You have a problem with your sight, its ok, we will fix that,' Joan soothed, and Sherlock felt reassured by her words so relaxed. He felt numb to his other injuries, drugs he guessed, but without sight he still felt uneasy.

'Sherlock, speak to me,' Joan asked.

'I'm ok,' Sherlock responded calmly. 'I think.'

'You are,' Joan spoke, and Sherlock imagined she was smiling, her voice sounded happy. 'Just you'll be under doctor's orders for a few weeks, and you will need to rest and take care,' she added as only a qualified doctor could.

'Being blind is a sensation I'm not going to enjoy,' Sherlock offered after a moment's pause.

'It should only be temporary, as far as they could tell there's no damage to your sight or your eyes,' Watson explained. 'It could be some form of hysterical blindness where a trauma has affected the signals to the brain or it might be some form of toxin that's having the same effect, do you remember anything?'

Sherlock started to see memories of his ordeal, the rush of information overwhelmed him, and it was only Joan speaking his name loudly that snapped him back to reality.

'Sherlock? What's wrong?' Watson's voiced conveyed concern.

'I remember bits,' he simply said and tried to calm his breathing that had got quicker as he remembered. He took a few more breaths before speaking again. 'Are they all caught?'

'Yes, all have been picked up,' Watson responded. 'They were pretty much caught red-handed,' Watson added and then looked at Sherlock. 'Are you ready to talk about it?' she asked.

'No,' Sherlock replied, and he could sense her surprise but offered nothing more.

'OK, I'll let Gregson know, he was planning to stop by later to take a statement,' Watson offered. 'You will have to talk soon.'

'I will,' he simply said and suddenly felt a wave of tiredness, that in itself it was unusual for him to feel so tired, but he didn't have the energy yet to fight it; and felt his eye lids get heavier with every second.

'You need to rest,' he heard Watson declare but was already asleep before he heard anything else.

* * *

'He said he's not ready to talk?' Marcus checked as he walked into the office, Gregson by his side.

'That's what Joan told me,' Gregson answered.

Marcus sat down and looked at the statements they had acquired from the three men they had arrested. 'The one thing we still don't know is motive,' Marcus stated. 'Why target Sherlock?'

'We can only assume Larry took getting caught personally,' Gregson surmised.

Marcus took a deep breath, clearly not entirely convinced. 'It just doesn't fit, why Larry would react like that, he escaped, anyone else would have run for the hills and lay low,' he explained. 'And these other two, what was in it for them?'

Gregson looked at Marcus, almost like a proud father would look upon his son, 'Sherlock's been good for you, so many men would just be happy with catching the criminals and putting them away, but you want to know the whys,' Gregson smiled. 'We have more than enough to connect them to this crime, the evidence is almost overflowing.'

Marcus smiled back. 'I just have a feeling we are missing something, something important.'

'I feel the same,' Gregson agreed. 'I still have to look into what exactly happened with the pursuit vehicles, and why they didn't get Sherlock earlier when they had the chance,' he added.

'I feel like we can't fault the team, they've put in some overtime on this case, some of them the full 24 hours, but that small fact on how they got away can't be overlooked,' Marcus considered.

'But now, I need rest and you do too, so go home,' Gregson ordered, standing up and walking over to his coat. 'Everything is in a place now, that it can wait till the morning.'

'I'll see you tomorrow,' Marcus didn't argue and moved to the door. 'It all might become clear looking at it with a less tired brain,' he smiled before leaving.

 **To be continued…**


	4. Chapter 4

**Past Demons**

 **CHAPTER FOUR**

'Miss Watson, thank you for coming in so early,' the nurse spoke with care. 'He's refusing his meds and keeps ripping out his lines.'

Joan rolled her eyes. 'For a drug addict he has a strange aversion to drugs.' She explained.

'These ones are purposely not addictive,' The nurse offered.

'I know,' Joan showed a strained smile. 'I can only say you'll get use to him, but let me try to talk to him,' she gave the nurse a reassuring pat on the arm.

Walking into the room she saw Sherlock was now sat up and all the machines were now switched off, probably due to him no longer being connected to them, by his own choice.

'Sherlock, it's me,' she announced, knowing his sight was still bad. 'Why are not taking your meds?'

'I don't need them, they are not pertinent to my recovery or my life, they are simply there to numb pain and I don't wish that, I want to feel the pain,' Sherlock declared.

'Are you crazy?' Joan asked, but her voice remained calm.

'I simply do not want to feel numb,' Sherlock explained, and he was displaying all his stubborn traits.

'Ok, but it's a pointless exercise and could jeopardise your recovery time,' she warned, now stood at the side of his bed. She took his hand into her own. 'Please, don't risk your recovery.'

To her surprise Sherlock stroked her hand very slightly in response to her hold. 'I need to do this, Watson,' he stated with no further comment.

'Do you think you'll be able to talk today, about what happened?' Joan asked, checking the time and seeing it was just past 8am.

'Maybe,' Sherlock considered after a moment.

'It would allow them to conclude the case faster,' Joan offered.

'Is there an officer on the door?' Sherlock then asked, possibly changing the topic.

Joan glanced over and saw the officer outside. 'Yes, why?'

'Why?'

'Yes, why do you ask?' Joan checked.

'No, why is there a cop on the door, who is he protecting me from? I thought you said everyone was in custody, who else do they fear?' Sherlock questioned.

'I'm not sure,' Joan hesitated, and was now confused as well. 'As far as I know the three we have in custody are the only ones involved, I've not heard of anyone else being remotely involved,' Joan looked at the officer, he was far enough away to not overhear their discussion. 'I'll check with Gregson, just in case something has changed,' she stated and sent a quick text to the Captain.

The nurse came into the room and glanced at Joan who indicated she hadn't persuaded Sherlock to take his meds. 'Mr Holmes, we need to send you to have a scan, so they can check how well the operation went yesterday and ensure nothing was missed,' the nurse explained. 'We will have an orderly in here shortly to take you.' Sherlock nodded his head to indicate he understood. 'I, erm, think he can manage a wheel chair, save taking you on the bed.'

'Are you sure?' Joan checked.

'Yeah, he's doing well,' The nurse replied and quickly left the room.

'Seems a bit soon to use a chair, you'd need help transferring to it,' Joan considered.

'Something wasn't right with her voice, she's nervous,' Sherlock observed. He was about to continue when an orderly walked into the room with a chair, and declared his reason for being there.

Joan noticed the officer had stepped inside the room, and recognised him as one of Gregson's team, calming her down slightly, as she approached him. 'Would you mind escorting us?' Joan asked, picking up on Sherlock's observations about the nurse. He was right, something wasn't right, the nurse was sounding nervous.

The orderly however was very breezy and upbeat, dismissing in some parts the concerns as he seemed to have no questions about moving Sherlock. He lowered the bed, and with precision and skill expertly moved Sherlock with very little trouble into the chair, taking his weight and being careful not to cause him additional pain. Sherlock couldn't hide his surprised at the skill shown, and Joan could see him relax a little. In truth it was encouraging to see him sat upright again. It hadn't been a long time by any standards, but it had been long enough to take heart in seeing him already on the mend.

'Your injuries are more surface and superficial, I read your file, don't worry, I wouldn't use a chair if I didn't think you were ok,' the orderly explained to Sherlock, as if reading both their minds.

'That's quite impressive,' Joan had to admit, as she began to follow them out of the room.

They hadn't gone more than ten metres before the cop stepped forward. 'I'll take it from here,' the cop stated, and without any argument the orderly simply changed direction and disappeared down a busy corridor.

'Excuse me, what's going on?' Joan asked.

'You keep walking normally and your friend won't get hurt,' the cop indicated to the knife now located directly behind Sherlock's neck, obscured from everybody's view bar Joans. 'You do anything, lady, and I won't hesitate.'

Joan didn't want to call his bluff, whatever this was she was by Sherlock's side this time, as she left the hospital building with the cop and Sherlock.

* * *

'I don't believe it!' Marcus Bell exclaimed as he jumped out of his chair and raced to the Captain's office, not waiting to be told to enter as he opened the door. 'Sir, Larry has escaped again!'

'What? How did we get caught out a second time?' Gregson's voice was raised, and he was immediately on his feet and heading to the door. 'What happened?' he asked as he walked with Marcus towards the elevators.

'Same as before apparently, we tried to make it less of a show, unmarked car, kept things quiet, no published routes,' Marcus read out loud from a sheet he was carrying. 'But the two man team escorting him was still jumped, and Larry escaped,' Marcus explained. 'Sir, it makes no sense, something is not right here, only the two men with him would have known Larry was in that car.'

'Making them prime suspects, where are they now?' Gregson asked.

'Unknown, it's been over three hours so we can assume that wherever Larry is, so are they,' Marcus frowned. 'It seems this either goes a lot deeper than we care to admit or he has two new hostages.'

'Do we have a unit at the hospital, I don't want him going after Sherlock again,' Gregson questioned.

'We don't have any men there, but we will in a few minutes,' Marcus confirmed, and started to make a call.

Gregson looked at his phone and saw the text from Watson that he had missed earlier. 'Joan was asking about an officer guarding Sherlock's room,' Gregson informed Marcus. 'She was asking why, I missed this earlier, she sent it an hour ago when I was in a meeting,' he added.

'There were no units assigned to the hospital,' Marcus confirmed.

Gregson pressed a direct dial button and put the phone to his ear, he waited for a response and his concern grew, as the phone went unanswered. 'Something is wrong,' Gregson stated. 'We're five steps behind again,' he stressed. 'Get a couple of units to the hospital I want confirmation that Sherlock and Watson are ok.'

Marcus made the call as Gregson tried to think, waiting for the elevator he stepped in on its arrival. Once Marcus had finished his call Gregson faced him. 'This is looking more and more like an insider job, we have to assume one or more of our team are somehow assisting Larry, for whatever reason,' he said, with a hushed voice. He hated thinking it, but he was being left with little doubt. 'I need you to stay here and check the activity and background of all the men who have worked this case so far, look particularly for those in direct contact with Larry at any time, those who have done anything that makes them stand out for any reason,' Gregson ordered. The elevator doors opened, and Gregson stepped out. 'Be discreet, and be careful,' he added as the doors closed sending Marcus back up to the office.

Gregson hurried to his vehicle intending to visit the hospital himself.

* * *

Sherlock grimaced as he was roughly dragged out of the van, and he had no idea where he was with his sight still blurred. They had taken Joan inside already and as he was dragged into the building he could hear her demanding to know where he was. The sounds of a door being hit indicated that she was locked in a room.

'Go shut that woman up,' a voice ordered, and Sherlock momentarily froze on recognising it to be Larry.

'How did you escape again?' Sherlock calmly asked, attempting to hide his initial reaction.

'I have friends, just like you,' Larry answered with no further comment.

'Don't hurt Watson,' Sherlock warned.

'I have no intentions of doing so, Holmes,' Larry returned. 'But I will if you do not cooperate,' he added with a sneer.

Sherlock could hear more footsteps approaching.

'Sherlock!' Joan spoke on arriving in the room.

Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment, he needed to compose himself, be ready for whatever was coming. Realising the situation, he opened his eyes again – for the good it did, as his sight was still absent. 'I'm ok,' he finally spoke up to reassure her.

Larry took hold of Sherlock and guided him to a chair, encouraging him to sit down. So many pains were shooting through his body at that moment, but Sherlock hid them well.

'You look well,' Larry spoke, and Sherlock imagined he was surveying him. 'My former colleague's actions were not my intentions, but they did a good job on you,' he added, and Sherlock felt a hand on his chin as Larry further examined, before Sherlock shook his hold off with a shake of his head.

'How is the head?' Sherlock then asked with a smirk, and he could almost feel the glare he figured Watson was throwing him at that moment.

In seconds there were fingers pressing against his neck, but only a little bit of pressure was being applied. 'Don't push me, boy, you know better than that.'

'Boy?' Sherlock choked in confusion, it had been a long time since anyone had referred to him in that way. 'You can't be that much older than me, surely?'

'Three years in fact,' Larry let go, and walked away again.

Sherlock could hear Watson struggling against the man holding her, and he wanted to tell her to just relax, he knew so long as he played along she wouldn't get hurt and he hoped the NYPD would be arriving before he couldn't do anything more to protect her.

His arms were then moved to behind the back of the chair and cable ties were once against applied to secure his hands. They rubbed the barely healed wounds from the last time, and Sherlock took a sharp intake of breath as they were tightened.

'Why are you doing this? Why risk your freedom again by taking him?' Watson pleaded, to the annoyance of Sherlock who wanted to be the one who talked to the psycho.

'This man,' Larry began, and Sherlock could only make out a blurred shape in front of him. 'Ruined my life, it's payback time,' he stressed. 'Once I'm done with him, I'll be able to move on finally.'

'He caught you fair and square, it was one incident,' Watson stressed. 'You were going to get caught eventually, why are you taking this so personally?'

Larry began to laugh loudly. 'My dear, my first arrest only alerted me to the continued existence of this man, but that isn't my reason for doing this, the true reason is far greater,' Larry stated. 'He got lucky; but that luck has run out.'

'So, what is your reason?' Sherlock asked tiredly. 'You've escaped twice, you have my attention.'

Sherlock heard a table being pulled along the floor, and sensed it was being placed in front of him, he then heard what sounded like a file of paper being dropped on it. 'I need to you help me solve a case.'

'A case?' Sherlock checked confused.

'I can't think of a better man for the job,' Larry answered. 'It's what you do, right? Solve the unsolvable?' It sounded like he was mocking him, Sherlock considered. 'I never got the chance to ask you before, after you took matters into your own hands, or should I say feet?' Larry finished.

'Are you forgetting something?' Sherlock offered. 'You blinded me. If that's a file in front of me it's pretty much useless to me like this.'

'Ah, so I did, it wasn't supposed to be for so long, which is your own fault,' Larry voice sounded joyful. 'I just wanted your full attention, clearly I didn't have it before but now I do.' Sherlock felt his head being roughly pulled back, Larry hand covered his forehead, and he was now stood behind him. 'Open your eyes wide,' Larry ordered with a calm air.

Sherlock didn't feel like he had a choice, and did as instructed, a series of painful drops landed in each eye on turn. Sherlock tried to turn away from them, and he heard Joan speak up with concern, but Larry forced his head to remain in position as more painful drops were applied.

'That should do it,' Larry confirmed. 'Blink your eyes, the pain will subside in time,' he added.

Sherlock was already blinking his eyes, to try and ease the discomfort he felt. A few moments later when he could finally open his eyes, he found they were responding, he could see again, even though his eyes felt like they were on fire.

'Is that better?' Larry asked, now stood the other side of the table. Sherlock looked in front of him and stared at the file on the table, with each second his focus became sharper. Larry took this as a cue and opened the file, placing six pieces of paper in front of the consulting detective. 'Let's get to work, read these, and then tell me if boy A is guilty. It's really that simple.'

Sherlock glanced at all the papers, each paper had a heading, starting with Boy B, C and D, then there was teacher A and teacher B, and finally Boy A. He began to read the papers in turn and a sinking feeling developed in the pit of his stomach as he read each account with care, these were statements, an internal investigation that took place at a school several years ago. He knew this case, he knew it very well and he was slowly working out that one factor that had been alluding him to this point.

After some time has passed, Sherlock sat back, but didn't speak. 'So, is boy A guilty?' Larry asked finally on seeing no response from Sherlock.

'Yes,' Sherlock answered with no further comment.

'Are you sure?' Larry pushed. 'You've read every statement, and that's your conclusion?'

'Boy A pushed Boy B down the stairs, Boy A was clearly a bully,' Sherlock answered, Larry slammed his hand down on the desk clearly not happy with Sherlock's conclusion, making everyone jump including Joan who looked nervous, at the new tension between them both.

'Maybe Joan would care to look, maybe she will think differently?' Larry voice sounded low and threatening, and he gestured to her to step forward.

Sherlock could see that Watson was unsure about getting involved, and he gave her no sign as to what to do, so she took the time to read each statement in turn. Once she stepped back Larry asked her the same question.

'I don't know what happened to Boy B but I would say Boy A is not guilty,' Watson responded.

'Your own partner disagrees with you, Holmes,' Larry pointed out. 'Where does this leave me?'

'Boy A was a trouble maker, and he had a dangerous grudge against Boy B,' Sherlock argued.

'I don't see that from these papers, Sherlock,' Watson puzzled, gesturing to the papers.

'Boy B accused Boy A of pushing him down the stairs,' Larry spoke directly at Sherlock. 'By his own account, Boy B says he was pushed forward and his injuries also suggest he landed face first, at no time would Boy B ever know who or what pushed him down those stairs, no one could know.'

'It's possible to catch a glimpse in the momentum of falling,' Sherlock returned.

'Teacher A states that Boy A was in his class right until the end of that period extended by five minutes for bad behaviour,' Larry argued. 'Boy B's accident was partially seen by Boy C, and he was adamant it occurred two minutes before that class were relieved at 3.47pm, and that class had been held back because Boy A has disrupted it, and they were all held back for five minutes,' Larry continued. 'Boy B's accident happened the other side of the school to where Boy A was seen by several witnesses at the time. Boy B was also knocked out by the fall, his account cannot be treated as fact by any stretched of the imagination. Tell me again how Boy A is guilty.'

'The claim on the time could never be that accurate, and it was dismissed, as stated in the notes in the paragraph because that Boy C was a known good friend of Boy A,' Sherlock gestured with his eyes to the notes, as his hands were still tied.

'Sherlock,' Watson spoke up. 'I'm not sure I'm seeing what you are seeing here, Boy A is not a suspect, all statements confirm he was not even near to where Boy B fell. If I was to guess I would say Boy B purposely or accidently fell down the stairs, and then accused a known bully of the act,' she argued.

'Bingo,' Larry declared with delight clear in his voice.

'Boy B was pushed,' Sherlock insisted, but it was obvious the conviction in his voice was waning.

'You keep telling yourself that, Holmes,' Larry goaded. 'Boy B suffered four broken ribs, a broken wrist, dislocated shoulder and a head trauma,' Larry re-read the details out loud. 'It certainly wasn't pretty, and the school management had to find a culprit to take the blame for poor little boy B's very rich and influential father, so they found Boy A, and why was that Holmes?'

'The culprit was Boy A because it was Boy A who inflicted those injuries, justice was served,' Sherlock remained defiant.

'Every statement, each one that isn't Boy B's statement confirms that Boy A was not capable of doing what he was accused of, every single one has Boy A placed in Classroom 2B at the time of the incident,' Larry stressed. 'But somehow Boy A was expelled, he was the one taken to a school for delinquents, pretty much set on a path of petty crime before graduating to full time criminal on the run.'

'That makes no sense, how did that happen?' Watson questioned, looking at the files again. 'Why was the word of Boy B taken over all these other statements? Hang on, there's no mention of what happened to the two boys in these files, how do you know all this?'

'Why don't you ask Boy B, he's sat right there,' Larry responded, clearly pleased with himself and the reveal on seeing Watson's stunned expression.

Watson turned to Sherlock who remained stony faced at the revelation. 'Sherlock is this true, are you Boy B?' she checked not quite believing it, she then turned to Larry slowly. 'And you're Boy A.'

'You're a much better detective than he is, Miss,' Larry complimented.

'You pushed me down the stairs,' Sherlock insisted.

'I can promise you I did not,' Larry stressed.

'You needed to be stopped, you were out of control,' Sherlock said with conviction.

Larry couldn't hide his reaction. 'I was out of control? I was not a kid willing to throw myself down a flight of stairs to make a point! Ok, I admit I threw my weight around, I acted up and I disrupted classes, but I was three years ahead of you Holmes, I wasn't even in your classes so why did I bother you so much?'

Sherlock now smirked. 'You couldn't leave me alone, always in my face, pushing me to the ground, punching and kicking me at every opportunity, forcing me to do your homework, to come up with plans, and claiming to be my friend,' Sherlock's voice was starting to convey an inner anger he felt at the memories coming back to him.

'It was harmless fun, Holmes,' Larry threw back innocently. 'And let's face it, I was the only friend you had in that place.'

'Harmless fun? For you maybe,' Sherlock simply said and closed his eyes, saying no more.

'So, let's understand what is being said here. You ruined my life because I was a little rough with you as a kid?' Larry spoke calmly, but then leaning forward against the table, close to where Sherlock was sat. 'I never went to a normal school again! I had to go to schools where being punched and kicked regularly was the highlights,' he raged. 'I was returned to my parents in America in disgrace, and they sent me to boot camp, do you even know what hell that is when they think you're a trouble maker from the start?'

Sherlock glanced up at Watson who seemed at odds with what she was hearing, and it was clear to him that she was swaying on the side of Larry. 'It wasn't just a little rough though was it?' Sherlock sneered. 'And correct me if I'm wrong but you don't get those sorts of injuries from just falling down one flight of carpeted stairs, do you? Or have you forgotten the actual truth about what happened that day, just a little earlier?'

'I'm only talking about these bits of paper, these papers that got me expelled even though nothing in them showed any concrete proof about me ever being near you on those stairs,' Larry stressed.

'My father got involved,' Sherlock offered, his head low. 'I couldn't control him back then, I barely have control of him even now,' he added.

'Oh yes, the great Holmes mafia,' Larry spoke up with disgust. 'There are only these witness statements because Mycroft had words with all the other potential witnesses, correct?' Larry recounted. 'And then these files became classified, with orders never to be opened again, tell me how that could happen for such a small school incident?'

'How did you get them?' Sherlock asked.

'I'm the criminal remember, I know how to do my job, unlike some charlatans,' Larry stated with anger. 'Just say it, just say you made it up, give me that at least because you've taken everything else from me.'

Sherlock stared at Larry, noticing for the first time the grown-up features of his one-time school bully. 'Anders Larson,' Sherlock said instead, sneering the name as he spoke. 'That's your actual name, why didn't I realise that sooner?' Sherlock was angry at his own incompetence, Andrew Larry was hardly a million miles from it.

Larry simply scoffed at the obvious snub to his request. 'You know what, we are done talking and I gave you a chance,' he offered, almost apologetically. 'All you had to do was admit you lied, admit that you framed me.'

'Deny it all you want but you were out of control, you would have ended up killing someone at that school, I saved you from much worse,' Sherlock insisted, and then noticed for the first time the two traitorous cops stood nearby. 'And you decide its ok to ruin these two men's lives in this process?' Sherlock questioned and looked at them both in turn. 'Now you know the truth, do you think you've made the right decision?'

They both stood uneasy, glancing at each other and then to Sherlock.

'I thought so,' Sherlock frowned.

'They wanted to see me bring you down, we all want the same thing!' Larry stated loudly, and then turned to the cop closest to Joan. 'Take her to the other room for a bit, I have business with Holmes, unfinished business.' Without argument the cop grabbed Joan, despite her struggling, and escorted her to the next room. 'I have waited a very long time for this, Holmes.'

* * *

Gregson hurried past the unit of men stood immediately outside the hospital and headed straight to Sherlock's room. He'd already been told that both Sherlock and Watson were now missing, and he was angry at the fact Larry had taken them both with such ease, again.

'Right from underneath our noses!' Gregson fumed to the men who were searching for any clues in the room. 'Do we have any CCTV?' he then questions, and an officer gestured to the small room further down the corridor.

Gregson reached the room and knocked once before entering, already he could see the footage being screened by two other officers. 'What do we have?'

'Seems Simmonds was unofficially guarding Sherlock's room, and this man then comes into the room and without missing a beat just moves Sherlock into the chair and they leave. Watson speaks to Simmonds, feels like she suspected something, and they head into the corridor. Close to the exit the orderly simply leaves without word, Simmonds takes over and they just leave the premises,' the young officer explained quickly.

'Do we know who the orderly is?' Gregson asked.

'He's being picked up now, and taken to the precinct,' the officer answered.

'Simmonds has always been one of the good ones, this makes no sense,' Gregson considered out loud before making his excuses and leaving the room. He checked his phone and saw no messages from anyone he wanted to hear from, Marcus, Watson or Holmes. With a loud sigh he headed back outside, seeing everything was in hand. He needed to confer with Bell, they needed a breakthrough.

* * *

Sherlock remained silent as Larry playfully ran a knife over his chest, he had already made several incisions, all were still bleeding, stinging, but they were only superficial.

'I can't turn back time,' Sherlock finally spoke to break the uneasy silence.

'I realise that,' Larry answered, and Sherlock took a quick intake of breath as another incision was made near his collarbone.

'Your accusing me of ruining one life, but as far as I can tell you've already ruined three lives to reach this point,' Sherlock considered, the small cuts were not painful in themselves but as a collective they were starting to become really uncomfortable.

'Do explain,' Larry requested with little interest.

'Well you're ruining your own life, at the moment, but you've also ruined Jimmy and Vinnies lives, they are guaranteed to get time for GBH at least,' Sherlock recounted. 'And what about those two cops you've dragged into proceedings, that's another two lives. So in total that's five lives against my supposed one,' Sherlock offered.

'There's no suppose about it,' Larry reiterated, ignoring the accusations Sherlock was making.

'You know you beat me bad that day,' Sherlock returned strongly. 'Those injuries I went to hospital with, you inflicted them so why does it matter exactly how you got caught, you deserved to be caught!' he stated with conviction.

Larry looked at Sherlock. 'So, are you admitting you lied?'

'I didn't lie, you inflicted those injuries, and that's what I told the teacher,' Sherlock countered. 'You broke my wrist, meaning I couldn't actually write my statement, that's not my handwriting on the statement. My form tutor wrote that based on what he had heard me say, he claimed I said you pushed me down the stairs, that's not my fault he made leaps in my spoken account,' Sherlock revealed.

'Why then didn't you speak up, why didn't you tell those people you had been misquoted?' Larry asked.

'You don't get it do you?' Sherlock spoke with confusion clear in his voice. 'You were the one who hurt me, even if they had written down that version the outcome would have been the same!'

Larry considered his words and put the knife to Sherlock's shoulder, the tip pointed directly at his skin. 'Why didn't you tell your father to back off, why didn't you help me? I was your friend, remember?'

Sherlock smirked and shook his head. 'Unbelievable,' he simply remarked. 'You do know why I fell down those stairs? Because I had just been beaten so badly, by you, my 'friend'!' Sherlock stressed. 'I was trying to act as if nothing happened, I was doing that to protect you!' Sherlock said with confusion clear in his voice. 'But when I reached those stairs I passed out, I fell unconscious because of the injuries you inflicted on me, that's why I fell,' Sherlock explained. 'So, by default I didn't lie, you were the reason I fell down the stairs.'

Larry pressed the knife down, breaking the skin and Sherlock grimaced as the pain shot through his shoulder as the knife slowly entered. 'I was just a kid,' Sherlock stressed feeling helpless against the attack, the pain was triggering long forgotten painful memories of his treatment at the hands of Anders Larson. 'The only person who terrified me more than you, Anders, was my father, and like you, he wouldn't have listened to anything I said about anything,' Sherlock paused with the pain. 'I was nothing more than a punch bag in both your eyes at that age.'

'I have hated you for so long, that pathetic weak little boy who I despised, you thought you were so much better than everyone,' Larry offered, his voice calmer and quieter now. 'All I've ever wanted is for you to admit you lied, and that's why my life has been so messed up.' Sherlock closed his eyes as the pain escalated in his shoulder, the tip of the knife was now embedded. 'And you can't even give me that one small thing I ask, and you can't admit you lied.' With a sudden movement, Larry slashed the knife swiftly and Sherlock could only scream out in pain, the one was going to leave a mark he realised as he felt warm liquid swiftly running down his chest.

Larry wiped his knife with care and placed it back into his bag that was situated at the back of the room. He then removed a box and once Sherlock had regained his senses he realised what Larry was preparing, another hit, smelling the burning of the substance as it turned to liquid.

'Don't do this,' Sherlock pleaded, feeling his body shake involuntarily. His body was already reacting to the potential next hit, he felt the pangs of need and he hated himself for feeling that way. All he now wanted was the heroin, to escape this reality, and he was growing expectant of the hit he was about to enjoy at any moment. He stared at Larry, suddenly becoming fearful, realising that the best torture Larry could inflect right now would be to deny him at the last second. To Sherlock's relief Larry clearly had no intentions of doing that, as the fresh syringe was now prepared, and a belt was being tied around Sherlock's bicep.

'You need a little something to take that pain away,' Larry informed him. 'I need to eat and consider my next move, in light of our discussions.'

Sherlock let his head fall back as the liquid was injected, the immediate rush was unlike any other feeling in the world. Sherlock stopped fighting as he allowed himself to escape once more. All the nightmares of his childhood melted away and Sherlock embraced the escape, almost wishing it could last forever, it was never a place he'd ever wanted to revisit.

* * *

'Anything?' Gregson asked on seeing Marcus at his desk.

'We already know Simmonds is one of the cops that has been helping Larry,' Marcus began. 'So, I've done a background check on activity that Simmonds has recently conducted on our computers and get this,' Marcus gestured to the screen for Gregson to observe. 'He done several searches on the name Anders Larson, who in turn I strongly suspect to be the person we've come to know as Andrew Larry,' Marcus stated.

Gregson focused on the screen Marcus was showing him. 'Anders Larson, his parents were English, they moved to America before he was born, but then sent their child to boarding school in England to get the same education as the father. However, he was expelled for pushing another kid down the stairs and causing injuries that hospitalised the kid,' Gregson moved back. 'Wow, so he was a psycho as a kid, no wonder he changed his name.'

'There's more,' Marcus revealed. 'The kid he almost killed?'

'Go on,' Gregson pushed.

'None other than our own Sherlock Holmes.'

'You are kidding me,' Gregson further read the monitor for the details. 'Sherlock was only twelve years old, Larry was fifteen, a classic bully.'

'That's a lot for a kid of twelve to have to deal with,' Marcus suggested. 'The injuries were intense.'

'So, a young Holmes was nearly killed by this guy and that guy was rightly punished by being expelled. So now some thirty years or so later he's getting payback on the guy he's already nearly killed?'

'It's the only solid motive we've found so far,' Marcus frowned.

'So, when he first heard Sherlock was on this case, that's why he got the unhealthy obsession with him,' Gregson figured. 'It's not a common name, so figures it would get a reaction.'

'Unfinished business maybe?' Marcus agreed.

'How did he dupe our guys into helping him?' Gregson then considered.

'We know there's been an underlying problem with Sherlock's popularity rating with some of the guys,' Marcus ventured. 'Larry must have told them the sob story version, Simmonds checked it out on our computers, and saw it was true.'

'Where did he find this information?' Gregson checked. 'I'm pretty sure school business is not usually found on police files, it said no complaint was made,' he checked.

'It was anomalously uploaded to a website, just days after the old school was raided, which does have a UK police report filed,' Marcus revealed. 'It said nothing of note was taken but the old archive at the school was ransacked, but no one was able to confirm what had been taken as they dated back so far.'

'I think we've solved that crime,' Gregson sighed. 'Send a note to the UK, let them know our suspicions,' he tiredly ordered as he rubbed his face. 'We're still no closer to tracking them down, and Sherlock was already in a bad way,' he feared.

'I still have stuff to follow up from Simmonds activity, and I'm close to identifying the other officer involved,' Marcus stated strongly. 'I'm confident I will find something that will help, just leave it with me.'

Gregson nodded his head with approval and returned to his office, he needed time to think things over and hope the breakthrough was imminent.

 **To be continued…**


	5. Chapter 5

**Past Demons**

 **CHAPTER FIVE**

Watson was impatient with the traitor cops, as they escorted her back to the room where she knew Sherlock was being held. It had been at least a couple of hours since she had been removed from the room, and she needed to be assured that Sherlock was ok, the scream she had heard had haunted her and her anxiety was high.

The door was opened, and she just saw the blood covering her friend, she tried to pull away from her captors, but they held her back despite her efforts. 'Sherlock!' she yelled to try and get his attention, but his head was rolling, and the only noises he made were groans, which sounded contented.

'He's out for another thirty minutes or so at least,' the more confident older cop spoke.

'Have you ever seen him high before?' the other younger cop asked towards Watson.

'One time,' Watson answered but her full attention was on the figure sat in the chair, just beyond her reach. Her eyes were focused on the incisions, some still weeping blood and one that looked deep and more angrily applied. That was the cause of Sherlock's scream she realised, and desperately tried again to break free of the men's hold, but they were used to dealing with people trying to break free.

'So, in the time he's been at the NYPD you've seen him high?' the younger cop questioned.

'It's none of your busines,' Watson snapped.

'Gregson is such a fool; this man is a liability,' The older cop judged.

'Says the traitor who kidnapped Sherlock from a hospital under the guise of a police officer, who, do I need to remind you, purpose is to serve and protect. You then put him into the hands of a known psycho?' Watson snapped back. The words worked as both ex-cops said nothing more but shared concerned glances, they were nervous she realised.

Larry returned in that moment and sensed the tension immediately. 'Bad time?' he offered with fake sincerity. 'He's still alive, that's something right?' he offered towards Joan, with a mocking tone.

Watson remained silent now, not wanting to feed the troll. She had quickly and easily reached the conclusion that Sherlock must have had a really good reason for his actions as a kid, and she knew he was the better man who was always trying to right wrongs, Larry deserved what he got despite his protests. Just looking at what he had done to Sherlock both then and now, was testament to her convictions.

Larry was checking Sherlock's vitals, and he started to slap his face to make him wake up from his drug induced sleep. Sherlock was trying to resist his attempts but after a few more encouraging slaps he became conscious again and groggily took in his surroundings. Seeing Watson he just locked eyes with her, trying to show her he was still Ok, but he looked so weak to her that it didn't look natural.

'I feel we should move, we've been here too long,' Larry announced. 'I need to properly escape now, get away from here, go underground.'

'Then go,' Sherlock stated tiredly.

'It's not that simple,' Larry responded.

'Well at least let them go,' Sherlock gestured to the cops and Watson. 'The cops, though stupid, they don't deserve to lose their careers on one stupid mistake, a personal vendetta that even they must realise by now was misguided,' Sherlock spoke, his speech was a little slurred and he was struggling to find the energy to finish his sentences, but he was battling through it.

'Let them go, Watson will vouch that you gave them no choice, that you had something on them that meant they had no other option but to help you,' Sherlock pleaded with effort. 'Don't ruin their lives as well, you have a chance here, Anders,' Sherlock was struggling to regain his full senses, but his words were hitting home as Watson observed Larry considering the situation. 'Give them the chance you never had to start again, come on!' he demanded with more strength.

Watson saw that those were the words Larry needed to hear in order to consider Sherlock's request, but Watson wasn't happy to just let Sherlock be left with this mad man. Despite the effort it had taken Sherlock to get Larry to a point that he was considering the request, she wasn't able to comply, she couldn't do it and live with that.

She glanced at the two men who seemed to be eager to follow Sherlock's plan now, as if realising that their options were not going to be great if they stuck to Larry plans, and it made her rethink her own stance. She didn't want to leave Sherlock behind, but he was right, she was these two cops only hope to try and rebuild what they had already destroyed. They had been misled by Larry, and who was she to deny them that opportunity. Sherlock doing what he was doing would also prove they had got Sherlock wrong. But she was struggling to come to terms with the fact she would be leaving Sherlock with the man who had already demonstrated that he was more than prepared to hurt Sherlock further, make him suffer for no reason other than his own pointless crusade.

'OK,' Larry finally spoke and moved towards Sherlock. 'Give us twenty minutes,' Larry stated as he began to cut Sherlock's ties, before gathering his possessions, keeping the knife on Sherlock the entire time. He gestured for Sherlock to move towards the door, before he threw him a blanket to give him some protection from the elements outside, it was barely enough Watson realised as she watched Sherlock wrap it around himself, clutching at it like a security blanket. His eyes were intense on her, red rimmed and sunken, and she knew he was willing her to play along and not argue.

She really wanted to protest, but with all her willpower she gave the slightest of nods to Sherlock to indicate she would do as he had wanted, even though if felt wrong as his friend to do so, she sincerely hoped she wouldn't live to regret it as she saw them both leave.

After a few moments, the two cops relaxed. 'I hope you appreciate what's just happened,' Watson shrugged their hold off her.

'I do, I really do,' The younger one stressed.

'Twenty minutes,' the older one simply said, but he sounded nervous, like he couldn't quite believe the chance he had been given.

'No, we give him five, then we call it in and look for them ourselves,' Watson stated and saw no objections. 'He doesn't hold all the cards anymore, and he is not going to be given the chance to disappear whilst he still has our colleague,' she added, and saw the cops agree, the younger one more so than the older one she noted.

* * *

They had made some progress and had covered a bit of ground in the few minutes since they had left the building, but Sherlock was already struggling to keep up and felt too weak to keep the pace up for much longer. He stopped and ignored Larry pleas to keep going.

'No,' he spoke between heavy breaths, he used a nearby metal fence to lean against. 'Leave me, you keep going, I'll just stay here and wait,' Sherlock offered already lowering himself down to the ground.

'No, no way, you're staying with me,' Larry demanded.

'You've had your fun, Anders, and I'm done, you've won, well done,' Sherlock dismissed. 'I'll only slow you down now, and make it easier for you to be caught,' Sherlock reasoned. 'Let me go now, concentrate on your own escape, get out of here whilst you still can,' Sherlock slurred.

'I said no way,' Larry stressed, and moved to forcibly pick Sherlock up.

'Watson won't wait twenty minutes,' Sherlock revealed with force, fighting Larrys hold on him but unable to shake him off. 'You'll be lucky if she's even waited this long before contacting the cops, so go already,' he demanded.

'Not with you being able to tell them exactly which direction I went, I can't risk that,' Larry objected. 'I'm not that dumb.' Larry started moving again, dragging Sherlock along with him.

Sherlock closed his eyes, partly to attempt to recover some energy but also because all his senses were screaming at him, his body was betraying him with a solution that would suit them both well, even if it went against any final rational thoughts Sherlock may of had. 'I wasn't lying when I said you'd won,' he admitted, his voice shaking and he stumbled onto the ground forcing Larry to finally let go of him. 'Please, I need another hit, another shot, by the time they find me I'll be too far gone to know where the hell you went, or who the hell I am, in this weather, the state I'm in I might even be dead by the time they even find me, and if I'm not then by the time I might remember you'll be long gone.'

Larry seemed at odds and for a moment just stared at Sherlock, offering nothing as he tried to consider the options knowing time wasn't on his side. 'Come on, Holmes, you only just had a shot, it's too soon, too risky,' Larry was shaking his head.

'I'm touched,' Sherlock sneered. 'Just do what I say, it's your best chance at escape,' Sherlock yelled with frustration, but it was really his body demanding a hit.

'This isn't you, this is your addiction speaking,' Larry stepped back slightly, showing sudden concern. 'I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have done this to you,' he feared. 'You might not be able to admit you were wrong, but I can't do that to you, I already have enough from you, I'm not taking credit for this.'

'Then just leave me the tin,' Sherlock gestured, and made a grab for Larry's bag. 'Come on you're already wasting time!' he yelled as Larry pulled it back from his grasp. 'You know I'm telling the truth, that cops are already on the way!'

The sound of sirens in the distance were clear to hear, and Larry rummaged in his bag finding the tin. A moment of uncertainty turned to panic as he threw it at Sherlock quickly. 'Fine, on your own head be it, this is not my doing, remember that, ok, I didn't want this!' Larry stressed as he backed away, still unsure about what he was about to do, still at odds.

'Get out of my life once and for all!' Sherlock yelled loudly, but Larry had already disappeared. Sherlock's raw emotions suddenly took over and he found his body shaking, his eyes filling with desperate tears knowing what was happening but helpless to stop himself. He shakily grabbed at the tin and began to prepare a shot, with his hands struggling to remain still. He knew he was against the clock, as he rapidly burned the spoon containing more powder than he should be burning but he figured he'd lose most of it with the rapid movements he couldn't control. His breathing was getting more laboured, as he desperately prepared the syringe, eyes now so focused on what he was doing.

A combination of desperate need, the cold air and his own weak condition, made it seem like three times the effort it should be as he tightened the belt around his own bicep. He was barely sat up now, and half lying in a ditch slumped against a partially destroyed brick wall. With tears freely flowing, Sherlock paused to consider his next actions. Sherlock felt the pains of the last few days, the physical hunger, tiredness and overall toll the experience had had on him. He tried desperately to resist until finally the stronger need took over, and he calmly accepted that he, once again, was a broken man. Showing very little care for his own well-being, he finally placed the tip of the needle to an inviting vein, just waiting for the shot to be administered. He paused again, just for a few seconds this time, thoughts of Watson flooding his brain momentarily, but his own need quickly dismissed any concerns for anything as he plunged the needle in and injected the full dose. He already knew it was too much, he was out of control, and any sense he might still have had evaporated as he quickly embraced the overpowering thrill of the insertion. His body instantly collapsed, and his known awareness completely escaped him.

* * *

The man in the shadows had seen everything, the two men arguing, the box being thrown at the helpless man, the sheer desperation as that same man then clumsily prepared and injected the heroin. He was about to leave the scene, feeling he had seen it all played out when he noticed the man hadn't even removed the syringe, his body already stiffening, then convulsing, he had lived on the streets long enough to recognise the signs quickly. He rushed over to check his fears and saw his suspicions being confirmed. Seeing all he needed to see, he snapped into action. 'Why is it always me who finds the pity ones,' he exclaimed angrily, and gathered the now convulsing man up, along with the tin, and bundled him over his shoulder. Hurrying away with speed, as best he could, showing surprising strength. The stranger knew he had to get the man some help, behind him leaving only the blanket as any evidence that either man had ever been there, a random back alley in an industrial area.

* * *

Gregson put his mug of coffee down and reviewed the report he had in front of him. 'Miss Watson,' he spoke formally with the interview being recorded. 'Your report conveys your strong belief that Officer Simmonds and Officer Jenkins were not acting on their own self will, but that they were forced to do what they did because the accused, Anders Larson, has leverage over them?'

'That's correct,' Watson replied.

'And you suspected this because you claim you saw both officers at various times appear reluctant to follow orders, and sensed they were only doing so under duress?' Gregson checked.

'I naturally had no proof and no discussion was ever had in front of either Sherlock or myself, but at no time did I truly believe either man wanted to harm us, they appeared at the mercy of Larson.'

'OK,' Gregson accepted and made some notes. 'We did find evidence of Simmonds researching Larson's past, most notably the incident at the school in England, that you also confirmed was the reason Larson gave for wanting to harm Holmes,' he explained.

Joan Watson considered her words, remembering Sherlock's request. 'He may have been trying to figure a way out of his predicament, before it was too late?'

Marcus Bell now spoke up. 'Our main issue at this time is that we also have evidence from witness statements that it was a well-known fact that Simmonds was seen to bully Jenkins. He is a rookie cop, and these statements claim the bullying happened a number of times, so we can believe that Jenkins was pressured into this situation,' Bell explained. 'But we are of the belief that he wasn't there due to anything Larson had on him, rather because Simmonds insisted,' he finished.

'I can only comment on what I observed, and I stand by my statement,' Watson offered. 'I believe that both cops were acting out of character and to me it seemed they were not there by choice.'

'OK, I think we are done,' Gregson indicated and stood up, gesturing to Joan that she could leave the interview room. They all walked out and paused outside. 'Your protecting them, I don't need to know why but I'm willing to believe it's with good reason.'

'Captain, the only person you need to focus on is Larry, everything else related to this case is of no importance,' Watson stated.

'We picked Anders Larson up an hour ago, he was trying to hitch a lift near the highway,' Gregson revealed. 'I couldn't tell you till now because I needed to get that interview out of the way.'

'Joan, there was no sign of Sherlock,' Marcus added.

'The case has been upgraded to one of suspected homicide,' Gregson spoke gravely.

Joan had no words, her worst fears appeared to be coming true and she was at a loss as to what to say or do in that moment. 'Has Larry said anything?'

'He claims that Holmes split, and went his own way,' Marcus offered.

'That makes no sense, Sherlock was taken by Larry, Sherlock had no reason to run,' Joan dismissed quickly. 'He was supposed to be Larry's insurance, Captain, Sherlock was in no fit state to leave with Larry, let alone go anywhere on his own unaided.'

'Larry was found with blood on his clothes,' Gregson added.

Joan nodded her head and remembered that Larry had Sherlock's blood on him from the cuts he had inflicted on him in the room, in particular the stab wound near Sherlock's shoulder that had looked particularly nasty. 'It's Sherlock's blood, some of it was from earlier but if there's more then-' she paused and didn't finish the sentence.

'We are searching the immediate area, between where we found you and where we picked up Larry, but it will take time,' Bell spoke softly and Joan knew she was failing to hide her distress.

'He only had a blanket and wearing some shorts from the hospital, in this weather even if he is still alive he won't survive the night wearing only that,' she stressed. 'Larry had weakened him even further since his stay at the hospital,' Joan tried to remain as calm as she could, but it was difficult. 'You saw my report, he'd been given another shot of heroin and could barely talk before he left, he had no energy at all, Captain, due in part I suspect to blood loss from the wounds Larry inflicted on him.'

'I wish we had better news,' Gregson offered.

'I shouldn't have let him go with him, I should have been stronger,' Watson stressed.

'And we might have been looking for two bodies, it's bad enough we're potentially looking for one,' Gregson returned. 'Come on, you're exhausted, at least attempt to sleep on my office couch because I already know I won't persuade you to go home.'

'OK,' Joan agreed, she was feeling drained and she wanted to know as soon as anything was discovered, Gregson had got that right.

* * *

'Why do you do this to me man!'

'I couldn't just leave him, look at him dude, he needs help,' the younger man argued, placing the unconscious man onto the floor with some care.

'He needs a hospital, with trained doctors, Steven!'

'He's one of us, we look after our own,' Steven returned with pleading eyes. 'I don't know who he is but what I saw I know he was in trouble, it didn't look right, whatever it was.'

Steven watched as the much older man glared at him, Colin had always been the go to man for as long as Steven had known him, ever since he'd started living on the streets. He didn't know much about Colin's background, only that he'd lived on the streets for much of his life. He was a low-key dealer who just dealt with a select few, and he just always knew what to do in a crisis with a speciality it seemed in cases of overdosing. They'd taken over the abandoned space about a year ago, and in that time, it had housed addicts who just wanted a safe space in a crazy city. Colin provided a haven and if his addicts showed willing, like Steven, Colin would help them ease off the hard stuff.

Colin checked the stranger's vitals, and then his general state. 'This man has been in the wars, these injuries are brutal,' he remarked gravely. 'We're losing him, he needs a kick now or he'll be gone,' he then decided, and he hurriedly cleaned the dried blood from the stranger's chest, he then hurried over to a cupboard close by and prepared a syringe, the strongest he owned and without hesitation he stabbed it directly into the stranger's heart and released the needed adrenalin.

Colin continued to observe the stranger, and was satisfied when he next checked his vitals. A small groan gave him some encouragement.

'Will he be ok, is there anything else we can do for him?' Steven asked with concern.

'This man is not out of the woods yet, he's weak, he'll get worse before he gets better,' Colin simply said as he discarded the used syringe. 'That's if he wants to get better, maybe he's already lost,' Colin remarked with calm. He checked the stranger once more and tapped the man's face. 'Come on, son, come on,' he encouraged, repeating the words several times and getting louder when he saw slight movement, a reaction. The stranger suddenly gasped, a strong intake of breath before his head rolled to the side. 'He needs a hospital, his problems are more than just drugs,' Colin explained. 'Take him and dump him near a main road, he'll be found.'

'No, I can't,' Steven refused. 'What if that other man finds him? He was shouting at him, threatening him, he probably did this to him,' Steven gestured to his physical injuries. 'I can't do that.'

'OK, OK,' Colin accepted and looked at the man. 'We don't want another Tommy on our conscious,' he sighed, and Steven agreed. 'Grab some of the warm clean clothes we were saving for emergencies, wrap him up warm, there's some blankets in the attic as well,' Colin instructed. 'Put him near the fire, and you're staying up with him ok? He's your responsibility now, you know what's coming.'

Steven nodded his head, grateful that Colin listened to him and his concerns. 'Sure thing, I can do this,' he stressed.

* * *

A light tap on the door made Watson snap her eyes open immediately and sit up, to see Gregson enter with care. She saw it was nearly 5am and she'd managed a couple of hours sleep at least. 'Is there news?' Joan asked.

'We've found a discarded blanket, same colour as the one you said Sherlock had wrapped around him when you last saw him,' Gregson informed her.

'Where?'

'A few streets away from where you were held,' Gregson offered. 'Larson told us where he'd last seen Holmes and we found it there.'

'Then Larry is lying, its clearly not where he last saw Sherlock, or he'd have been there too,' Joan stressed.

'The only other item we found at the scene was a used syringe,' Gregson added solemnly. 'It's already been tested and there were traces of Sherlock's blood.'

Joan just put her hands to her face and held them there, her emotions were just under the surface threatening to escape. she needed to compose herself. 'He was barely down from the last hit, taking another so soon,' she trailed off not wanting to say the rest of the sentence.

'Larson is insisting he didn't hurt or kill Sherlock after leaving the building,' Gregson spoke with care. 'He claims Sherlock ran out of energy, and insisted he go it alone, but to leave him the tin before he left, he was demanding another shot.'

'If that was true Sherlock would still be in that exact location, Larry said himself he had no more energy and if he took another shot he'd most likely still be on a trip, if not overdosing,' Joan considered.

We are concentrating our search to that immediate area and will begin to fan out, I agree with you, in the state you describe him being in, he can't have gotten too far, and that location is pretty much deserted at this time of night,' Gregson stated.

'I'm trying so hard to believe he's still alive but it's getting harder,' Joan spoke with sadness. 'He's lying out there in some ditch and if the drugs haven't claimed him, the cold would have.' Watson was on the brink of losing control of her emotions again, but she wasn't going to cry, not yet, not whilst a small glimmer of hope still existed, no body meant he could have somehow survived. 'I'm sorry I can't assist you more, Captain,' she managed to speak.

'Hey, you are not expected to offer any kind of help at this time, we need to be helping you,' Gregson assured her.

Watson took a deep breath, composing herself as she stood up. 'No, I'm not the victim here,' she stated firmly. 'I need to help, I owe it to Sherlock, let me help, it's what he'd be doing for me if the roles were reversed.'

Gregson offered a smile, he wasn't going to argue as he opened the door for her and they headed into the hive of activity in the office beyond.

* * *

The two uniformed officers entered the abandoned building, and Colin was quick to get to his feet and move away from his fire. 'Gentleman,' he offered as he approached. 'What brings you here at this hour, and in this weather?

'Hey Colin,' one of the officers greeted fondly. 'We're looking for this man, you haven't seen him passing through by any chance?'

Colin studied the picture and recognised his patient immediately. 'No, I haven't, what's he done?'

'We're just keen to locate him,' the officer returned.

'Has he got a name?' Colin asked.

'Sherlock Holmes.'

'I haven't left this building for a couple of days, but hang on,' Colin offered. 'Steven, get down here!' he yelled and a few moments later Steven appeared. 'Didn't you say you saw some ruckus earlier over by Queens street, two men arguing?'

Steven eyed the cops nervously before nodding his head. 'I was too far away to really know what was going on, but it didn't seem good, so I went the other way and returned here.'

'Was one of the men this man?' the cop showed Steven a picture of the man he was looking after in the room upstairs.

'I really couldn't say, I was too far away,' he lied, guessing if Colin wanted the man to be found he'd have sent the cops upstairs to find him.

'Ok, well if we need to ask you any further questions I trust we will find you here, you'll vouch for him, Colin?' the cop asked, and Colin agreed. 'Steven, right?' he checked and put his notebook away and then simply turned and left the building.

Once they were clear Colin shook his head. 'Yeah, you're really that concerned for his welfare that you can't even be bothered to search the building, great service you provide!' he fumed towards where the cops had just left before he turned, heading up the stairs to the next floor.

'What did they say, Col?' Steven asked following close behind.

Colin knelt on reaching Sherlock and checked his vitals. Steven had wrapped him up very well, and he was a better colour than before. His body had warmed up at least and his breathing was less rapid now. 'They said they were keen to locate him, but didn't say why,' Colin finally answered, once satisfied his patient was in as good as health as could be expected.

'Is he dangerous do you think?' Steven asked.

'No, he's not, he just needs our help,' Colin said calmly. 'You're doing a fantastic job,' he encouraged, and Steven accepted the praise with pride. 'His name is Sherlock,' he added.

'Sherlock?' Steven checked.

'Sounds like something from Shakespeare, right?' Colin smiled.

'What's a Shakespeare?' Steven asked innocently.

'Nothing you need to concern yourself with tonight,' Colin said with some amusement. 'Come find me if you see any changes, if he starts sweating or breathing oddly, OK?' Colin ordered and saw Steven nod his head to indicate he understood.

* * *

Information was minimal and trickling in. Sherlock seemed to have just disappeared, Watson considered. She glanced at all the notes again, and then at the map of the area that was spread across the desk marking all the relevant areas of interest.

It had been a long time since she had felt so useless. Nothing was jumping out at her, and she was at a lost to figure out what Larry had done with Sherlock.

'Can I speak to Larry?' Watson asked towards Gregson, who simply threw her a look that answered her question. 'I know I'm a part of this case, but maybe I can get him to reveal what he did to Sherlock.'

'We have his statement, Joan,' Gregson offered. 'I don't think he's going to reveal anything more, he doesn't have to talk to us unless we get a fresh lead, and we can't put you in front of him without damaging the entire investigation.'

Joan moved some of the papers around and something caught her eye, she pulled a piece of paper out from under the map and read it.

'What's this?' Joan asked, and Gregson looked at what she was holding up.

'A report from one of the units that patrolled the surrounding area of his last known location, they covered the older buildings towards the east,' Gregson offered.

Watson examined the report closer. 'They mention visiting a known drugs den but don't mention anything about searching it,' Joan narrowed her eyes. 'They spoke to the guy seemingly in charge, he's known to them obviously as they refer to him by first name only. They noted that a guy in the building called Steven had heard two men raising voices in the exact area Larry claimed he last saw Sherlock.'

'He seemed to confirm that a confrontation between Sherlock and Larson took place, but he also said he was too far away to be sure, and he walked away not wanting to get involved,' Gregson remembered.

'I want to visit this place, I need to speak to this Steven,' Watson indicated.

'It didn't sound like he had much more to say,' Gregson looked confused.

'So, the fact a known drugs den is in walking distance of the last known location of Sherlock doesn't deserve more attention than a single line in a report?' Watson questioned. 'I've worked with addicts, remember, and one thing I learned was they protect their own.'

'Before you get carried away the den is not nearby, it's here,' Gregson indicated on the map and Watson saw it was a fair walk away from the location where the blanket was found. 'The likelihood that Sherlock could have covered that distance, or even knew of the den was unlikely, its a recent addition to the area. But I do agree, maybe it does deserve further investigation, this Steven guy might have some more information that could help. The only people in those streets at that time of night are the addicts or the dealers, and maybe Colin can help us in that way.'

Watson nodded her head, and with Gregson they headed out of the office.

* * *

For the first time in a long while Sherlock slowly regained consciousness and felt safe, he blinked his eyes open and groaned as his head ache kicked in. He felt wrapped up, and he tried to get an understanding of his surroundings, but he didn't recognise them. Unwrapping himself he felt the chill of the air as he sat up, but it didn't bother him. The fire contained within a wired contraption just a short distance away from him provided the warmth he needed for now. He took stock and beside the headache, his body also ached, and he looked at the many cuts that covered his upper body. As he tried to move, he felt the sharp pains of healing wounds on his back. Rubbing his face, he looked at his surroundings. Although he didn't recognise this exact space, it felt very familiar, the blankets on a hard floor, the indoor fires, that weird aroma that told Sherlock this must be a drugs den of some sort.

A dread started to rise inside him and he checked his arm, hating the marks that he saw. He got to his feet sharply, partially in despair and partially with anger. Hearing a car, he grabbed the blanket and wrapped himself in it before moving the window, taking care not to be seen.

Watson and Gregson were walking towards the building he was in, and Sherlock panicked. Not knowing or remembering why he was there, and just looking at himself and the recent marks, Sherlock wasn't ready to face either of them and swiftly moved to the stairs that led up to the next floor. Once on the next floor Sherlock saw an array of other people who seemed to not even notice him as he stepped between their blankets and sleeping bags. Sherlock recognised some of their expressions, and he felt pangs of desire that became more distracting as he observed them more. Sherlock headed to the back of the room and found a dark corner where some old furniture was stacked up and manoeuvred himself into a gap that provided a covered hiding space.

As he settled down he felt the pull of his addiction rising, seeing the fellow addicts in various states had distracted him. He held himself tightly to try and beat the rising need inside him. He could hear Gregson speaking, they were on the floor below now, where he had been just a few minutes earlier. Sherlock felt hot, his body felt gammy with sweat as he remained in his hiding place, his breathing was more rapid now.

A man came up the stairs, followed by Gregson and then Watson. He was calling for Steven, and they soon located him, he had been asleep and was now warily getting to his feet. He noticed Watson scanning the room at all the bodies on the floor, she was trying to spot him, he knew it. He desperately wanted to get out of the small space, he felt sick now and it was taking all his energy to remain where he was.

Thankfully, a few moments later the group plus Steven had moved downstairs and the moment Sherlock felt it was safe to move he hurried from his spot and moved to the window to get some air. Breathing heavily, catching his breath, Sherlock collapsed to his knees.

He was back, he realised. Somehow, and he couldn't figure out how, he was back at that place. His senses were overwhelmed by the past smells and sounds of the place that had long been only present in his nightmares. Sherlock looked around, the playing fields spread out before him as far as the eye could see, children in school colours were taking part in sports. It was adding to his growing fear, he hated sports, hated the kids that took part, many a time he'd been caught in their crossfire of teasing and beatings.

He glanced to his right and saw him approaching, Anders Larson, his mind was spinning at the injustice of what he knew was coming. Unlike the other school bullies, Sherlock knew Anders was a true threat and he knew he was more than capable of killing someone. He had profiled this bully several times and the results never wavered, always coming back the same 'capable of murder' and he also knew he'd be the first victim, he fit his own devised profile. He was the classic first victim, he had tried to befriend him, big mistake, ended up running errands for the lunatic, doing his homework, all for the benefit of being ignored but it had backfired. All he had achieved was making himself known to the future psychopath. He knew this was the moment, he knew because he'd already lived this, he knew the brutal beating that was to follow, the one time in his life he wanted to die so the pain would stop and as Anders got closer he froze, unable to move, unable to stop it.

Clinging onto the window frame, Sherlock snapped rapidly to reality and he turned to sit down and face the room. The memory had been so vivid that he was sweating, his heart was racing. The room was now spinning, the nausea was overwhelming. He let his head roll as he curled up on the floor, the pain was intense, and he closed his eyes hoping it would end soon, a small voice inside his head was telling him he had to get clean but there was a louder voice fighting that desire. Beside him was someone's sleeping area, currently vacated and in his anguish, Sherlock spotted something that could help end his agony, end it once and for all. With his need now attacking him, all common sense and care had left him, and he reached out towards his escape, he could finally get rid of Anders Larson once and for all.

He put the newly found knife to his exposed wrist.

 **To be continued…**


	6. Chapter 6

**Past Demons**

 **CHAPTER SIX**

Joan headed towards the car knowing that Gregson was behind her, and as the car unlocked she quickly got in. They had been driving for a minute before she finally spoke.

'I was really hoping we would find something there,' Joan sighed. 'Anything,' she added.

'I don't know,' Gregson considered. 'When we first arrived, Colin looked nervous when we asked to look around.'

'Did you see the number of addicts on that top floor, I'm not surprised,' Joan responded. 'You could go back this afternoon and bust the lot of them.'

'Probably,' Gregson admitted. 'For all the good it does, we need to catch the bigger fish that supply those guys, someone like Colin would know that, I think it was something else.'

Watson considered his words. 'I didn't sense that, I usually do.'

'Possibly because you were distracted trying to find any evidence of Sherlock,' Gregson half smiled. 'And that's not a criticism,' he quickly added before she objected. 'The minute we got onto that first floor and it was clear that Colin noticeably relaxed, that's all I'm saying.'

Watson glanced at Gregson as he drove. 'You think Sherlock is there?'

'I don't know, probably not, but someone he didn't want us seeing is,' Gregson answered. 'I'm going to get a team to search the files for anyone currently on the run, who would know Colin.'

'I do think Steven knows more than he's saying, he was looking at Colin for reassurance,' Joan frowned. 'I think he did see Sherlock, and he knows he did, but I'm not so sure now that he did hang around long enough to see what Tilling's did to him.'

'I'm thinking the same,' Gregson agreed.

Joan rubbed her eyes, she was feeling tired again and just wanted some space. 'Can you drop me off at the brownstone, I think I need to get some rest and clear my head.'

'Of course,' Gregson agreed. 'It will do you good to get some sleep, and if anything happens I will let you know.'

Watson started to relish the idea of a hot bath and her comfy bed, despite the guilt she also felt for anticipating such luxury when her friend was still whereabouts unknown. She shuddered at the thought that maybe she would just have to start accepting that he was gone, then chided herself for even thinking along those lines.

* * *

The sharp sting across his cheek got his attention as he snapped his eyes open, and instantly regretted it, his head was killing him now.

'Hey, wake up, come on!'

It was the last thing Sherlock wanted to do as he tried to close his eyes again, but another sharp slap prevented him.

'Get more bandages, check the store in the backroom downstairs!' the voice urgently called.

Everything became a blur, he felt light headed and couldn't hold his head up. Another slap soon followed, and he accepted that falling asleep might not be an option, so he opened his eyes. There was a man in his face, concern being show, and it seemed he was now yelling at him, but Sherlock couldn't understand, he could barely hear him. His head felt fuzzy, as if he was underwater. Another slap followed but Sherlock couldn't find the strength to prevent it, so he just let his head snap to the left as it hit.

There was a sting in his arm and he groggily made out a syringe, but he didn't feel high. After a few moments his head began to clear and the words the man was shouting became clearer.

'Stay with us, Sherlock.'

'I'm here,' he slurred and then shivered, and in moments a blanket was placed around him which felt like the best thing anyone had done for him, ever.

'Don't try to move,' he was told calmly, so he remained still.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes as the man took his arm and gently rested it on his own arm. His other hand pressed down really hard on a bandage that Sherlock hadn't noticed before, it was soaked in blood.

'Give me that glue,' the man instructed to another.

Sherlock's eyes couldn't keep up as the man worked quickly, his head was still rolling, and he was unable to stay focused.

'Ok, I think that's got it,' The man then offered and gently wrapped a clean bandage around his wrist tightly. 'Are you still here?' he asked directly at Sherlock. He managed to nod his head, words seemed to escape him for a moment, and he felt so tired. A cool cloth was placed on his forehead, and after a few more minutes of fussing by the men the fog was clearing he realised. The room came into better focus, and Sherlock could now properly see the two men in front of him.

'You need to rest, but you need blood,' the older man explained. 'I can do many things, but not transfusions.'

'I'm ok,' Sherlock managed, feeling a bit better now.

'Sure,' the man responded. 'So why did you just try to kill yourself?'

Sherlock showed his confusion and then looked at his freshly bandaged wrist. He was trying to remember, to figure it out when the man spoke again.

'The come down is always a bitch I know but that's a crazy thing to do,' the man exclaimed. 'We only just reached you in time, another 30 seconds and you wouldn't be here now! I'm going to have to keep a closer eye on you if you're going to survive this one, where did you even get a knife?'

'I don't remember,' Sherlock answered shakily, and couldn't miss how scared this man sounded for his own welfare, it made no sense to him in that moment. 'I've never done that before.'

The man frowned and took a few needed breaths to calm down. 'My names Colin, and this is Steven,' he gestured to the younger less confident guy. 'We're the reason you're still here on this Earth.'

Sherlock looked at them both, to him it was the first time he had met them, but it was clear they had known him for a bit longer at least, they even knew his name. As each minute passed he felt more awake and aware of his surroundings, he was vaguely remembering the house, and hiding. Then he saw a memory of Watson, just outside with Gregson and he couldn't understand why he felt scared.

'Was Watson here?' Sherlock asked quietly.

'So, you do know her,' Colin smiled. 'Is that why you hid, you were hiding from her?' he asked. 'Is she after you, what did you do?' Colin pushed.

'We're friends,' Sherlock simply replied.

'Are you sure?' Colin smiled. 'Friends don't normally hide from friends, especially friends as concerned about your welfare as she seemed to be,' he added. 'It wasn't easy lying to her about knowing where you were, but I figured you had your reasons.'

'I don't know, I just don't want her to see me like this,' Sherlock answered. 'None of my friends should ever see me like this,' he stressed.

'It's ok, we get it,' Colin assured him. 'But you do need help I can't provide.'

'And I'll get that help, but not yet,' Sherlock answered strongly. 'I need to be clean,' he added.

'I can help you with that,' Colin responded. 'First thing we should do is get you off this floor, this is not the best place to try to get clean.'

Sherlock accepted both men's help in getting to his feet, and their support to walk the short distance to the lower floor. Despite the short walk, Sherlock was struggling to find the energy and he knew the two men were both taking the majority of his weight, as they navigated the stairs. His head was beginning to spin again, and he could hear his heart pumping inside his head.

They lowered him down once they had returned to his room and he regained his breath, he felt his body begin to relax and calm down from the stresses of walking.

He was offered water by Steven, who then sat close by. Colin brought over some plain biscuits, but Sherlock couldn't think of food in that moment. His hand started shaking and he rapidly put the glass down and held both arms close to his body.

'Why was she here?' Sherlock finally asked, needing the distraction, the need was growing and he could feel a light perspiration forming on his face.

'She wanted to speak to Steven,' Colin answered, edging a bit closer on observing Sherlock. 'He was the one that found you overdosing in the street, brought you back here. We told her he heard you and that other guy you were with arguing, but he was too far away to really help, he's a good lad, Steven, you owe him your life.'

Sherlock glanced at Steven who seemed embarrassed by the praise. He couldn't have been older than seventeen, and deduced that he was a recovering addict, Sherlock could tell but it seemed like he had found a mentor in Colin, he could sense the father like instincts in Colin when he spoke of Steven.

Sherlock let out a sigh, his brain felt like his own again, and he had his senses back. He suddenly had a lot more questions, which to him was a good sign.

'How long have I been here?' Sherlock asked, able to pick up the glass again and take some needed sips.

'A couple of days, not long.'

'How bad have I been?'

'Pretty bad you were almost gone when you got here, had to give you an adrenalin shot, then you got pretty sick just a few hours after you arrived,' Colin recounted. 'Steven got your though the first couple of attacks, took both of us to hold you down on the third. Then you know how bad you got with the fourth, I'm tired of saving your life now, can you please stop?'

'I don't remember anything,' Sherlock admitted letting his head drop.

'I'd be surprised if you did, you weren't exactly with it for any of them,' Colin smiled knowingly. 'But I saw you respond during that last one, its why I started slapping you like a bitch, I needed you to wake up, always a sign you're coming back to us,' Colin offered. 'So, what's that accent, you're not from around here, are you?'

'England,' Sherlock answered, suddenly feeling a long way from home. 'London in fact,' he added.

'A brit? I don't think I've ever fixed a Brit before,' Colin exclaimed. 'So, what was the deal with this other man Steven mentioned? The one who ran off?'

'Honestly, I have no idea, I can't really remember anything right now,' Sherlock rubbed his head, he hated memory loss the most, it was never a nice feeling. 'I feel I've done ten rounds with a champion boxer, a boxer with a knife it seems, and somehow I'm back on heroin, I'd love to know who he is as well.'

'What do you remember?' Colin pushed.

'At a guess I remember up to a few days ago, I just can't tell how far back,' he signed heavily, and rubbed his face. 'All I can tell you is that a few days ago I was living a normal existence, I was looking at cold cases between cases, I'm a consultant for the NYPD.'

'You're a cop? Steven blurted with confusion.

'No, I'm a civilian who consults with the cops, a detective of sorts,' Sherlock explained.

'Keep going.' Colin encouraged and saw Sherlock become a little weary. 'The more you talk, the more you remember, the more you're using your brain and the more you get back to who you are and how you got here,' Colin explained.

Sherlock took a deep breath, he knew the method Colin was employing and was annoyed he hadn't spotted it, he was right, and Sherlock had begun to admire this man, his manner and his technique in dealing with people like him. He had been to many places over the years, but this guy seemed to just have a knack, Sherlock felt safe with him and felt the benefit of his company. But he was losing concentration, and a tiredness was overcoming him. Colin appeared to notice as Sherlock struggled to stay awake.

'We'll let you rest but Steven will be close by, just in case,' Colin offered. 'Get some rest but we will be waking you regularly, you're not out of the woods yet but you're close.'

Sherlock was already asleep.

* * *

Watson felt refreshed after a long soak in the bath, and was just preparing some coffee to take to bed, intending to grab some quality reading time and a good night's sleep. Whilst she felt guilty for the pleasures, she was no good to Sherlock if she couldn't think straight, and this is what she needed.

As she poured her coffee she heard the door bell, with a flash of frustration Watson put her coffee down and went to the door.

'Mr Holmes,' Watson exclaimed on opening the door and recognising the visitor.

'Please, Joan do call me Morland, we are all friends here,' Sherlock's father responded, and walked past Joan who did little to prevent him entering the Brownstone. 'Now tell me what you know.'

'I would have told you myself, I'm so sorry, it's just been a bit manic,' Joan apologised.

'Never fear, Joan,' Morland dismissed. 'There's very little I don't know about what's going on with my son, with both my sons.'

'Right,' Joan responded and gestured to Morland to take a seat, then sat herself down in the armchair, Sherlock's chair, she found herself thinking before snapping back to the present.

'I remember that boy Anders Larson all too well,' Morland spoke up when Joan didn't speak. 'A bully and one I was told in no uncertain terms, by a team of experts at the time, was a danger to society, as has been proved these past few weeks.'

'Seems he's been waiting a long time for revenge, and got his opportunity,' Watson offered. 'Look, I don't know how much you do know but Sherlock was the victim, for once he did very little to provoke what happened.'

'Was the victim, shouldn't that be is the victim?' Morland checked.

Joan realised her error and half smiled. 'At this moment in time we do not know for sure, but we've found no evidence either way as to Sherlock's current state.'

'This isn't the first time he's done this,' Morland spoke up. 'I've lost count of the times I've mourned my youngest son.'

'Excuse me?' Watson checked.

'Sherlock has this twisted sense of self that when he is most vulnerable, most in need, he will simply disappear, and then be presumed dead,' Morland answered calmly. 'It's his thing, and I can't begin to explain it.'

'Ok that does sound incredibly like him, but he was in no state to disappear, his injuries alone would mean he couldn't get far,' Watson explained. 'Plus, he was under the spell of heroin, and it appears he had more in his possession.'

'I feared this would be the case, it's usually a factor when he disappears like this,' Morland frowned and got to his feet. 'Don't lose hope, Joan, please don't give up on him. That would break my heart if you did, I need you to keep believing.'

Joan looked confused but nodded her head. 'Of course,' she assured him.

'He was once gone for two years, we even had a service for him,' Morland remembered, and she saw a sadness in his expression. 'And don't worry about this place, it's yours till he comes back, then I'll have to evaluate his situation.'

Joan had no response to that and she simply followed Morland to the door, watching him leave without further comment. She closed and locked the door, resting her back against it as she considered Morland's words. Was he simply deluded about his son, or was this just another of Sherlock's disappearing tricks? Finding a little hope in his father's words, Watson decided to take comfort from Morland's advice and went to remake her coffee.

* * *

The sun shone brightly through the window as Sherlock blinked his eyes open. He could barely move, so remained cocooned in the blankets he found around himself. The fire was out, and he figured with little effort that it must be early morning.

'Are you ok?

Sherlock glanced towards the voice and saw Steven looking back at him from across the room. He simply grunted a response, not having the energy to do much else.

'You need help,' Steven suggested. 'You don't look too good.'

'M'ok,' Sherlock murmered.

'Have some,' Steven had moved closer without Sherlock realising, and had a bowl of something hot, smelled like some sort of stew. A spoon was being offered, but Sherlock shook his head. 'C'mon you haven't eaten since you got here, you need to eat.'

'Not hungry,' Sherlock responded.

'Water?' Steven then offered.

Sherlock opened his eyes and attempted to sit up, he could barely lift his head. Steven moved closer and assisted Sherlock to a sitting position, till he was resting against Steven. He was then able to put the cup to Sherlock's mouth and he took a few sips before looking away.

'Take more, please.' Steven urged, and put the cup to Sherlock's mouth again. Reluctantly Sherlock took a few more sips before stopping once again, finding Steven spilling the rest of the water all over him when he tried to get him to drink some more.

'Sorry,' Steven offered quickly. Steven then put the cup down and returned to the food. 'Are you sure you're not hungry?'

'I'm ok,' Sherlock responded, he was still resting against Steven but felt no inclination to move. All he wanted to do was sleep, and had no desire to do anything else, and the thought of food made him feel nauseas. In that moment Sherlock felt nothing, he felt empty. His body was telling him nothing, but he started to feel a very strong desire for another hit. He didn't remember it being this hard before, and he didn't know why it was this way now. Maybe he had just wiped the previous times from his memory, maybe before he had more desire to get clean. Sherlock froze on that thought.

'Hey, you ok?' Steven seemed to sense a change in Sherlock.

'Just tired,' Sherlock replied and shivered for a moment, so he nestled deeper into the blankets.

'You'll be ok,' Steven then assured him and made sure the blanket was still secure around Sherlock.

'I need a hit,' Sherlock then announced with strength returning to his voice.

'No, you're getting clean, remember?' Steven insisted.

'You're not my mother, I want a hit,' Sherlock protested and began to loosen the blankets, with Steven attempting as best he could to keep them in place.

'Sherlock, this isn't you, you're sick and you need to get better,' Steven stressed, but without warning Sherlock had found a reserve of energy and managed to push himself away from Steven, removing most of the blankets from around him. Disorientated from the rush of energy, Sherlock composed himself and looked around.

'Upstairs, right? That's where the drugs are,' he checked, wide eyed and a little bit erratic in his movements.

'Sherlock don't do this,' Steven moved closer to him.

'Stay back,' Sherlock warned, his hand held out in front of him, but in trying to warn Steven, Sherlock stumbled and fell back. His energy had rapidly gone, his head now spun, and he took some needed deep breaths. Steven reached him and took hold of him, and Sherlock had no energy to stop him this time.

'Get off me!' Sherlock raged, despite being unable to free himself and sensing panic rising inside him.

'I need to do this,' Steven stressed, holding him tight. He kept a tight hold as Sherlock struggled against the tight hold, but it was a one-sided fight, Steven was easily overpowering the detective. 'Sherlock, it's ok, you're going to be ok,' he kept repeating like a mantra, rocking the now prone man, in an attempt to calm him down.

It was working, as gradually Sherlock gave up the fight and his body relaxed. With his energy now exhausted the need to sleep had become greater and Sherlock couldn't keep his eyes open for much longer.

'Everything ok up here?' Colin asked as he entered the room, having heard the raised voices from downstairs.

'It will be,' Steven assured him.

'I think you can let him go now, unless you want to kill him by strangulation?' Colin pointed out, but Steven didn't react. 'Steven, let go, come on, he's safe now, he's asleep,' Colin encouraged as he hurried forward. 'I don't know if it was voluntary sleep but he's unconscious, see?'

Steven slowly let Sherlock go, and stared at the man. 'I had to help him, he wanted another hit, he was acting crazy,' Steven defended his actions.

'I know, it's ok,' Colin assured him calmly, checking Sherlock's vitals and seeing they were fine, a little weak but he was still recovering from the suicide attempt, Colin considered. 'Sherlock will be fine, you did good, just remember what I tell you about knowing when to stop, ok and the correct use of strength?'

'I'll remember,' Steven nodded his head.

'I've prepared you a little something downstairs, you've earned it, I'll keep an eye on Sherlock for now,' Colin offered, and Steven took a moment to check on Sherlock from a distance, before rushing downstairs.

Colin checked Sherlock's vitals once more, he made sure he was comfortable and sat down across the room to keep an eye on the man, hoping he'd survive the withdrawal, and trying not to be concerned by Steven's actions.

* * *

Gregson looked around the office and saw Marcus Bell hunched over his computer. It had been nearly five days now since anyone had seen Sherlock and with each day the hope was waning from the team. He had interviewed Larson once more, but he still insisted he had left Sherlock in the street with a hit of heroin, on Sherlock's insistence.

'Detective Bell, when you have a moment,' Gregson indicated towards his office and went inside. Moments later Bell arrived and closed the door.

'I'm getting pressure on the Larson case,' Gregson stated. 'We have twelve hours to charge Larson, no more extensions, and no more time on searching for Sherlock unless we can prove he's not disappeared under his own steam.'

'I have to be honest, I'm hitting brick wall after brick wall,' Bell sighed.

'I spoke to Joan this morning, she has been trying to get information on any of Sherlock's previous associates who he may have known when he was an addict, but she's not getting far with it,' Gregson frowned. 'It really does feel like he's just disappeared off the face of the Earth.'

'Isn't that what his father said?' Bell offered.

'It is, it seems from what Joan said that this is a thing Sherlock does,' Marcus agreed. 'Although I have to be honest, I really don't think considering the circumstances that this could possibly be the situation here. Sure, Sherlock can do some amazing things, but by all accounts could he really have escaped the area unnoticed in the condition he was in, with police rapidly filling the area?'

'One thing I've learned,' Marcus spoke with confidence. 'Is to never under-estimate Sherlock,' he smiled. 'Call me crazy but I believe he's still alive, I can't explain it, but I do.'

'I wish I shared your optimism, but I'm happy to know you feel that way,' Gregson spoke with a tired voice. 'For now, I'm assigning as many teams as I can to cover every inch of land in the area Sherlock was last seen and where we picked up Larson. We have twelve hours and I'm going to use them.'

* * *

Sherlock awoke and instantly froze, unsure of his immediate surroundings and he felt panic rising inside him as he pushed back and hit his head against something he didn't realise was behind him.

'Whoa!' a voice sounded startled, and Sherlock realised someone had been holding him. 'It's ok, I was just stopping you shaking, you kept fitting, it's ok!'

The voice came from Steven, and as awareness came crashing back into Sherlock's mind he realised he was shaking, and burning up.

'Your sick, you've been out cold for two days,' Steven spoke rapidly. 'Col and me, we have been taking turns to make sure you didn't,' he trailed off. 'You need help, man, help we can't give you.'

Sherlock knew deep down that Steven's words were true, he had never felt this bad, this weak. He was caked in sweat, his skin felt like it was burning, and he was shivering uncontrollably. He could barely move and remained prone in the position he had fallen back into.

'Col just thinks you need something stronger than we can give you, your wounds are infected, you need to just go to hospital,' Steven was pleading.

Enough was enough, it was time to use the brain he supposedly had.

'Listen to me,' Sherlock's voice was quiet and laboured, so Steven moved closer. 'I need you to follow these instructions.'

* * *

'There's nothing more I can do, we didn't find anything, so I have to call them off, we have searched every blade of grass,' Gregson explained.

Watson closed her eyes, her phone pressed to her ear. 'I understand, and I know you have done everything within your power,' she offered down the phone to Gregson. 'I'm just at a loss as to what to do now.'

'It's been over a week, with absolutely no sign anywhere,' Gregson stated. 'I know Larson is good but he's not that good, but we know Sherlock is. Maybe we do just wait till he's ready.'

'You really think he's still out there?' Joan frowned.

'What other possible explanation is there?' Gregson responded. 'I'm with Marcus now, I can't explain how but I've worked enough crime scenes and murder cases to know something always comes up, this is just too much like Sherlock for him not to still be alive.'

Watson took heart from Gregson's words and couldn't deny the passion behind them, the facts however remained sketchy. There was then a knock on the door. 'Look I have to get the door, but I'll come in later, lets grab a coffee,' Watson offered, hearing the door again she started to move towards it.

'I'd like that, speak soon,' Gregson said before he hung up.

Watson put her phone in her pocket and then opened the door, she was surprised to see the young kid she'd talked to at the drugs den looking back at her, Steven.

'Miss Watson, I've been told to tell you Reichenbach Falls?'

Watson stood stunned for just a second before snapping into action. 'Wait there, I need to grab some things and then we'll get a taxi,' she stressed, leaving Steven on the doorstep looking unsure but optimistic.

* * *

Watson paid for the taxi and got out, she then stood for a moment next to Steven. They didn't speak during the journey, but not through want of trying on Watson's part, she found Steven to be very nervous in her company and transfixed by the view outside the window of the taxi. If she didn't know better, she would say Steven had social anxieties, which might explain why he's now living in a drug den, away from society.

'Is he here?'

Steven glanced at Watson and just nodded his head quickly and began to walk. For some reason, and despite the words she had heard, Watson was surprised to learn this, suddenly it was dawning on her that he was alive, after a week of not knowing, he was actually alive, and she had been summoned. She remembered the conversation a couple of years ago, at the time it seemed ridiculous but now it had proved to be very useful. Sherlock has been sat at the table in the kitchen at the Brownstone when he simply started to inform her of a new instruction.

'If either of us are ever incapacitated, or need help without question, we need phrases that will immediately alert either party to the seriousness of the situation,' he had begun.

'What are you talking about?' Watson had smiled.

'There may well be situations in the future where time is of the essence, where we need to communicate something important in as fewer words as possible,' Sherlock had explained with care, ignoring Watson's amusement. 'We might need to get a message out that makes sense to no one else but us, this is important,' Sherlock had stressed.

'OK, tell me the phrases.' Watson had decided to play along.

'Baker Street will mean I am ok but track me.' Sherlock proposed.

'OK, so we're safe but situation could change?' Watson checked. 'Who exactly will be the messenger, if either of us are unaware of eithers position?'

'This is the thing Watson, you can always find a way to broadcast this message,' Sherlock stated, and stood up to pace the room as he explained. 'It can be a note, a scribble on the wall, a stranger relaying it, any means you can find, it saves you having to write something that could be intercepted by someone you'd rather didn't see it, or it might just save time if the situation is such that we are unable to waste time with words.'

'Ok,' Watson still wasn't convinced.

'Then we should have one that will mean without doubt that we need help, and quickly, that if you use this phrase it means you are in need of medical attention,' Sherlock offered and Watson just frowned at the ridiculousness of it. 'We will have Reichenbach Fall for that instance.'

'Reichenbach Fall?' Watson checked.

'It's a phrase we're hardly going to use by accident and if you see or hear it, then you'll most certainly remember it,' Sherlock stated with confidence.

How true that had been. He had come up with another two or three phrases, but they escaped her now, and they had never had the need to any of the phrases in the time since that discussion, but the minute Steven had uttered it Watson found herself responding quickly, grabbing her medical bag and knowing to be prepared to use it. Now she was heading into the building, the situation catching up with her, and she followed Steven closely.

 **To be continued…**


	7. Chapter 7

**Past Demons**

 **CHAPTER SEVEN**

Sherlock could hear people approaching. He had managed to stay awake for longer than previous attempts, but already he could feel the need to close his eyes weighing heavily on him. Steven had done good, he considered, he hadn't questioned anything about his request, he'd simply followed them, and it seemed to the letter.

In his absence Colin had been reassuring Sherlock that he just needed drugs he didn't have to hand, that the virus just needed to come under control and some blood wouldn't go amiss. This had calmed Sherlock down a bit, his mind was not what it could be, so he was feeling very vulnerable, but Colin's words made sense.

As the steps got closer Sherlock began to cough, he'd had a few coughing fits since he'd been awake, and his head was fuzzy with flu-like symptoms. He felt hot and feverish one moment, then freezing cold the next. He was tired of not being his normal self, and he was looking forward to Watson working her magic, that was if she didn't kill him herself first. He knew he had a lot of questions coming his way, and he knew he probably owed a lot of people apologies, but he also knew that what he did was the right thing for him. The pull of heroin was weakening, he'd battled through the withdrawals and it had been painful and the worst of his experiences to date, but he felt stronger inside. Now he just had to fix what should be the simple things. He was glad Watson had not had to watch him fight his demons, he was grateful to Steven and Colin for being there, it was going to be a hard thing to explain to Watson, and already he knew she would be upset that he felt he needed to protect her from that side of his character.

They finally reached him and in seconds he sensed Watson was by his side, at some point in the past few seconds he had drifted once again, and it was a struggle to open his eyes to greet her, instead he offered her a moan and a grunt. He felt her immediately examining his vitals, and he heard Colin explaining what he could about his condition. He was too tired to do anything but succumb to sleep and it annoyed him, he had wanted to show Watson that he was ok, but then he considered that maybe just this once he wasn't, and he needed her help. On that thought, the darkness overcame him, and he passed out.

* * *

'How long has he been out?' Watson asked, seeing Sherlock was unresponsive.

'He was literally just awake only two minutes ago,' Colin answered.

Watson tested his reactions, pinching him and lightly slapping his face but it was clear he was not pretending, he was out cold. 'Ok, I need to get him to hospital,' Watson stated and looked at Colin's expression. 'Let me guess, he expressively said no hospitals, right?'

'He was pretty adamant about it,' Colin shrugged.

'I'm owed a few favours,' Watson considered for a moment. 'I still have a license to practice,' she added, not that she had to prove that to Colin or Steven. She took her phone from her pocket and dialled a number. 'Hey, Oscar, I need a favour,' Watson began but as it went on it was clear Oscar was not going to help her and she fully appreciated why and ended the call. She considered her next move with a lot of care before she dialled a number. 'Can I speak to Mr Holmes please, it's urgent, tell him Joan Watson needs his help, it concerns Sherlock.'

The call lasted five minutes and by the end of it Watson was confident that items she required were already being prepared, she knew Morland would know people who knew people. A private ambulance was being despatched with instructions to treat the patient and escort him home, leaving all the necessary items Joan required with her, to continue his recovery. Joan also knew Sherlock's father wouldn't forget this favour and hoped whatever he asked of them as payback wouldn't be too bad.

Morland didn't need to know too many details, Watson considered. His father's only desire was that Sherlock would get what he needed, and when he was fit and well, then Morland will ask questions. She could live with that, and Sherlock's protests, when it would come to answering his father's questions.

She then took time to properly look at Sherlock. His face was sunken, dark rings around his reddened eyes. He wasn't breathing well, it was laboured from the infection that was in his chest. He looked to have lost weight, noticeable even after it had only been a week or so since she'd last seen him. The damage that had been inflicted seemed to be fading, the bruises were barely visible now and the swellings has gone down. She carefully moved the blanket and saw the numerous cuts Larry had inflicted, all had healed but the one that had been the worse, in his shoulder hadn't healed well and she saw signs of infection. She checked It more closely and Colin stepped forward.

'I tried to keep it clean and bandaged but when he had his fits and mad moments, that cut always reopened,' he explained.

'It just needs time to heal,' Watson offered, not wanting to consider what Sherlock had been through since she'd last seen him. She then noticed the bandage on his wrist, already knowing that hadn't been there before, and she was confused. She took a closer look and then glanced at Colin who didn't appear to want to say anything about it.

Under Watson's glare, Colin knew he had to say something. 'It happened during one of his meltdowns, during the worst part of the withdrawal,' Colin offered. 'I don't know where he got the knife,' he added.

'Are you saying Sherlock did this to himself?' Watson asked, she was already unwrapping the bandage and knew what she was going to find.

'He was as shocked as you when he came to,' Colin stated, in Sherlock's defence.

Joan felt devastated by the damage, and took a moment to take it in. 'It's infected,' she simply said. 'I can't tell if it was from the knife or the dressing.'

'I was too scared to remove the bandage once I applied it, there was so much blood when he did it, I've never treated that type of injury before,' Colin's voice broke as he answered.

Joan offered him a sympathetic glance, it wasn't his fault, and she knew just how scary an injury of this sort could be to try and treat. 'It's ok, I just never thought he could do this to himself,' she added and took a deep breath. 'Thank you,' she offered towards Colin, and then towards Steven. 'Both of you, thank you.'

'For what?' Colin asked confused.

'For being there,' Watson said with care. 'I've spent the last week thinking this man was dead, I couldn't see how he could have possibly survived the circumstances he was supposedly left in when he was last seen. But he had two guardian angels.'

'I'm sorry I lied to you when you came here with that cop,' Colin then spoke up. 'I honestly thought you would find him in this room, and then I could act ignorant of who he was, but when he wasn't here I felt he must have good reason and I didn't want to damage the trust I had with him at that point, I had made some progress, not much, but I knew I could help him with the withdrawal,' Colin added.

'It seems you've done a good job,' Watson smiled.

'I regretted it soon after when I found him in a pool of his own blood, I've never dealt with anything like that before,' Colin stressed. 'I nearly called you back.'

'He did this to himself whilst we were in the building?' Watson checked with horror clear in her voice.

'I guess so, it wasn't that long after you left that I found him,' Colin explained.

Watson couldn't respond, her mind was a whirlwind of emotions as she let that revelation sink in, but her thoughts were quickly broken as she heard the private ambulance pull up, and her attention became fully focused once more on fixing him.

* * *

They had been back at the Brownstone for over two hours. In the time since the ambulance had arrived Sherlock had been examined and treated on route to his real home. He now lay in his own bed under the supervision of Watson, who had been left all the medicines and equipment she needed to continue his recovery. Surprisingly, the diagnoses had been relatively simple, he needed to rest, allow the medicines to kill the fever and to have his vitals monitored just in case for a couple of days.

Watson knew however that deep down it wouldn't be that simple. There was an underlying phycological problem related to his addiction, and general state of mind that she knew would need to be addressed. He was still unconscious, but he didn't look at peace. His face would contort from time to time, his body seize up at other times.

Her phone began to ring, and she stood up to take the call away from Sherlock. 'Captain?' Joan answered.

'Joan, I thought you were coming to the station, coffee?' Gregson prompted.

'Oh, right, yes,' Joan stammered and glanced at the prone Sherlock. She had totally forgotten she had said she'd stop by the station, and she glanced at her watch to see it was nearly 4pm. 'There's been a development, I lost track of time.'

'A development in what, Sherlock's case?' Gregson asked.

'He's here,' Joan simply said.

There was a pause before Gregson spoke. 'Sherlock is there?'

'It's a long story.'

'I only spoke to you a few hours ago, what happened?' Gregson asked with surprise.

'I will explain, why don't you come over? Sherlock needs medical care, I can't really leave him right now,' she offered.

'I'll be right there, I'll bring Marcus, I know he'll want to see him,' Gregson suggested.

'No, look, Sherlock hasn't woken up yet since getting here, he's recovering, he needs time,' Joan explained.

'Ok, no, I understand,' Gregson accepted. 'I'll be there soon.'

Joan finished the call and looked forward to some company that could answer back. The day was starting to catch up with her. She felt she should be ecstatic that Sherlock was safe and back, but she felt troubled and she couldn't quite understand why.

Seeing Sherlock stir again she went to his side and was surprised to see his eyes were opening.

'Sherlock? Open your eyes,' Watson encouraged, but he looked disorientated as he blinked his eyes. 'Your back at the brownstone, Sherlock, you're home.'

Finally, Sherlock seemed to find some focus and he just stared at Watson for a moment. 'Watson? You got my message?' he murmured.

'I did, see I do pay attention,' Joan smiled, but soon moved her hand to his chest when he attempted to get up. 'You need to rest, strict bed rest,' she stated.

Thankfully Sherlock was still too weak to argue and relaxed as he lay back. 'Water,' he then managed to say, and Joan grabbed a couple more pillows she had to hand and helped Sherlock move forward and placed them behind him, so he was left in a more sitting position. She then handed him a glass of water she had already set aside on the side table.

His hand shook slightly as he took the glass, taking some needed sips. Watson watched him with close attention, already she knew he wasn't quite himself by his lack of protesting and a general manner of tiredness.

'How do you feel?' Joan asked.

Sherlock seemed to consider the question. 'Better,' he finally said. 'I'm not staying in bed,' he then stated.

'You're already sounding much more like yourself,' Watson said, feeling a sense of joy at the sudden arrival of the Sherlock she was more used to. 'But until you've regained your strength you won't have much choice.'

Sherlock looked irritated but didn't argue.

'Captain Gregson is on his way over,' Watson informed him, and Sherlock simply nodded to acknowledge her. 'Would you like some soup or tea?'

'No,' Sherlock replied.

'You haven't eaten for a week, Sherlock, you will need to eat at some point,' Watson stated, remembering what Colin had told her before they left.

'I'll eat when I'm hungry,' Sherlock responded without comment.

There was a knock at the door and Watson went down stairs to open the door, knowing Gregson was due. She opened the door and let him in.

'He's just woken up, took him about five seconds to sound more like himself,' She smiled.

'What happened?' Gregson asked.

'It was all a bit strange,' Watson admitted. 'When I was on the phone to you and someone was at the door? It was Steven and he simply told me a code word Sherlock devised ages ago, and I just acted on it,' Watson saw the expression on Gregson's face. 'Yes, a codeword, don't ask, it worked.'

'Not saying anything,' Gregson smiled then glanced upwards towards the stairs, Watson followed his stare and saw Sherlock coming down the stairs.

'Sherlock, you shouldn't be up!' Watson chastised.

'I'm ok,' Sherlock returned dismissing her concerns, but he had a tight grip on the handrail. Without needing to be asked Gregson hurried to meet Sherlock and assisted him down the rest of the way, he looked surprised that Sherlock let him help.

'It's good to see you detective,' Gregson offered when they reached the bottom.

'Likewise,' Sherlock replied breathing heavily, and continued to walk into the living room unaided before falling into his armchair.

Both Watson and Gregson could see how much that had taken out of Sherlock, his breathing was heavy, and his head had fallen back against the chair.

'Would you like a drink? I'm going to make some tea,' Joan offered, and Gregson agreed. They both headed downstairs to the kitchen.

'Is it ok to leave Sherlock?' Gregson checked.

'He won't be able to move for a while,' Watson confidently replied, 'and he's not going to take any instruction even if I did tell him to stay.'

'Yeah, he's never an easy patient,' Gregson remembered. 'So, this kid turns up and takes you to Sherlock?'

'Yeah,' Joan responded. 'He was at that drugs den all along,' she revealed.

'I knew Colin was hiding something.' Gregson exclaimed.

Joan half smiled at Gregson. 'He was helping Sherlock, I'm not sure Sherlock was ready to face us from what I've heard, he's been to a pretty dark place.'

'How is he doing?'

Joan sighed as she prepared some hot water for some tea. 'It's hard to tell at the moment, physically he should be ok in a few days, surprisingly none of his injuries were that bad, I just need to keep an eye on a couple of the wounds he's picked up,' she said brightly. 'Mentally, I just don't know. He seems to have got through the worst part of the withdrawal, although that will be an ongoing thing I imagine, from what Colin was saying he feels Sherlock is through the worst,' Watson explained. 'But I just sense there's a bit more we may have to work on, he's not eating for one,' Joan frowned. 'He's not really been back long enough for me to really know.'

Joan offered Gregson a cup of hot tea and then moved back towards the stairs, Gregson followed as they returned to the living room. On reaching Sherlock they found him asleep again, curled up in the chair.

'Do you want me to attempt to take him back to his room?' Gregson ventured.

Watson smiled. 'No, it's ok,' she answered and reached for a blanket that was stored near the sofa. She unfurled it and wrapped it around Sherlock.

'I see what you mean now,' Gregson then stated, and Joan looked at him confused. 'I'd forgotten he had so many tattoos,' he hinted with a sparkling smile.

Watson laughed, she hadn't even considered the fact Sherlock had walked down wearing just some pyjama bottoms. 'Steady there, Captain,' she smiled.

'And on that note, I'm going to return to the station,' Gregson stated having finished his tea.

'Has it suddenly got too hot in here?' Watson teased.

'Enough, it was just an innocent observation, don't start rumours,' Gregson jokingly warned and smiled on seeing the mischief in Joan's expression. 'It's nice to see a smile back on your face,' he added.

'I feel we can finally get things back to normal around here, it'll take a bit more time but at least everyone is where they are supposed to be,' Joan declared and escorted Gregson to the door.

Gregson turned on the steps to face Joan before leaving. 'He will need to give a statement at some point soon in order for us to press charges on what happened,' he stated. 'We need to nail this guy on some serious charges, the ones he's already on will only put him away for a few years, when we know he's a bigger threat to society.'

'I'll let him know so he can prepare,' Joan agreed. 'I want Larry to be put away for a long time for what he's put Sherlock through,' Joan confirmed.

'Great, just let me know and we will get him down to the station,' Gregson stated and headed towards his car.

* * *

Sherlock sat in his armchair, it wasn't very comfortable, and he knew his bed would be a better resting option, but he wanted to be up and about, and not the 'patient'. He also knew it was winding Watson up, and he couldn't help himself.

He'd been home for a few days now, trying to regain his strength and have things return to normal as quickly as possible. He felt better, his head had cleared finally, the virus had passed, and he wasn't being tormented to distraction by 'the need' nearly as much now. He was feeling more in control and this made him stronger. He rubbed his wrist, the wound was healing but it was taking longer due to the infection that occurred in the wound, but it was irritating him now. He looked at the bandage and he couldn't help the uncertainly that rose in him when he considered the injury. Sherlock knew that Watson wanted to discuss it, at some point, but had almost been too afraid to even acknowledge it. It was an elephant in the room at this time, neither wanting to really delve into why it even happened.

He'd been to dark places in his past, he had self-inflicted a lot of damage on his body, but he had never done anything so, Sherlock paused his chain of thought. It was still too soon for him to consider it.

Sherlock glanced across the room, hearing Watson moving around out of sight. He had been trying to remember what had happened to him, Watson hadn't spoken to him about it, she was too focused on making him better but now it was bothering him. He only saw the aftermath, the injuries and he knew his sobriety had been broken, but he didn't remember anything about what had happened and it troubled him not knowing what had made him so weak.

'Hey, I need to go down to the station and sign some documents relating to the Larson case,' Watson announced as she breezed into the room. 'Will you be ok for a couple of hours? Do you want me to bring some soup up or more water?'

'I'll be ok,' Sherlock answered. He felt Joan's stare on him, but he didn't look back at her.

'OK, well I'll be as quick as I can,' She stated and left the Brownstone. It was the first time Sherlock had had the place to himself since he'd been back, and it felt suddenly quiet.

Sherlock rose to his feet, still a bit unsteady at first and slowly made his way with care down to the kitchen. He could smell the just made soup, and saw it was now in a flask to keep it warm. He ventured over to it and unscrewed the top, discovering it was chicken. He looked at it for a bit, and then replaced the lid and put if back down. He knew he needed to eat but it all seemed too much of an effort, he'd wait for Watson to return and she would force feed him again like the previous days.

He then froze suddenly, a delayed reaction, replaying Joan's words she had said before she left. His breathing began to quicken, and he grabbed a chair to steady himself. 'Larson,' he repeated. 'The Larson case,' he spoke the words and feared laced his voice. His brain began to throw images at him, an older man but so clearly someone he had once known in his youth. 'Anders Larson did this to me,' he finally remembered, and sat down heavily in the chair, having almost missed it entirely. He closed his eyes, as the memories bombarded him, the pain felt real again, and he was remembering the exchanges. It was overwhelming him, and his body was shaking. How had Larson found him, how had he so easily been captured by him. What had he missed not to have realised that Larry was Larson.

Sherlock was at a loss, and all too quickly his brain was torturing him, his surroundings were a blur as the memories cascaded. He couldn't escape his mind and began to realise that maybe he needed to find a way to forget, but he only knew of one. He was about to go into the back room, find the secret stash, when he heard the door bell, and for reasons he couldn't fathom he automatically went to answer the door instead.

As he approached the door he was hit with a sudden flashback of the last time he opened the Brownstone front door, that fateful day that led him to the place he stood now. He took a deep breath to battle through the panic and opened the door, but only an inch or two wide, to check who it was. On recognising the guy on the other side he opened the door fully but he was shaking as he did so.

'Colin?' Sherlock spoke, with surprise.

'Hey, are you ok, are you alone?'

'Yeah?' Sherlock answered with some confusion. 'Come in,' he gestured but as he did so he stumbled, but Colin was quick to assist him.

He escorted Sherlock to his arm chair and then paced in front of the recovering detective.

'How you doing?' Colin asked rapidly.

'Getting there, I was intending on stopping by once I had more energy,' Sherlock began but Colin cut him off.

'They have Steven.'

Sherlock considered the words before speaking, his attention suddenly sharp to Colin's words. 'Who have Steven?'

'Larry's men,' Colin stressed still pacing the room.

Sherlock closed his eyes and allowed the information to sink in, now his memories had returned he was able to consider the urgency of the situation. 'How many more men does Larry have, and how the hell did he find out about Steven?'

'I don't know, all I know is that this morning I realised Steven hadn't come home last night, and as I was going out to look for him, this man arrives, and he said that the charges by Sherlock Holmes against Anders Larson must be dropped, or Steven dies.'

Sherlock got to his feet. 'I can do that.'

'What?' Colin checked.

'I'll drop the charges, I won't give a statement,' Sherlock declared. 'No one else is getting caught up in this, no one else is getting hurt by that monster.'

'Sherlock, he can't get away with what he did to you,' Colin shook his head.

'He still has the original charges against him, he'll still serve time for escaping,' Sherlock considered. 'I won't press charges and they'll have no need to do anything to Steven. I can then use my time once I've recovered to find a way to press more charges later but for now, we have to comply and save Steven.'

Without warning Colin hugged Sherlock, after a few moments Sherlock responded, and he could sense Colin was overwhelmed by his actions. As he pulled away he noticed Colin's eyes were damp, on the brink of crying.

'He'll be ok, I'll do what I need to do,' Sherlock assured him. 'I know what Larson is capable of, I don't want Steven being a victim of that.'

'He's a good boy, and he'll be terrified, strange places and new things send him into a frenzy,' Colin began to stress. 'They better be looking after him, if he's pushed I fear for them too, he's a strong lad.'

Sherlock understood Colin's words, a memory of being held by Steven and unable to break that hold gripped him for a moment, the sense of panic, but he quickly cleared that from his mind.

'I'll state my intentions about the charges as soon as I'm able, without it raising suspicions,' Sherlock stated.

'Thank you, thank you so much,' Colin stated repeatedly. 'I better go, they said If the police get involved they'll know, and they'll kill Steven, I don't want to be here when your partner gets back.'

'Go,' Sherlock encouraged. 'If I know anything, I know Watson will bring either Gregson or Bell back with her to make me give the statement, she's been bugging me for a couple of days about it.'

Colin didn't need any further instruction, and he quickly left the Brownstone. Sherlock sat back down and felt exhausted, he knew he had a battle ahead of him, but there was no way he was prepared to put Steven's life in danger on his account.

* * *

As Sherlock predicted when he heard Watson return, he also heard Gregson in tow. He remained lying on the floor with his eyes closed, finding some needed focus, and dismiss the memories that were trying to destroy him, he was using an old meditation technique he had learned back in London.

'Sherlock?' he heard Watson speak, partially concerned, partially not surprised at all.

He opened one eye to see both Watson and Gregson staring down at him. 'I'm ok,' he stated firmly.

'Right, cos lying on the floor is perfectly normal for someone who is ok,' Watson sighed and walked away.

'I was meditating,' Sherlock spat back and sat up. 'Captain,' he acknowledged.

'Holmes, good to see you a little livelier than before,' Gregson commented and then offered a hand to help Sherlock to his feet, which was accepted by the detective.

'Sherlock, we need to get your statement,' Joan spoke.

'I'm not pressing charges,' Sherlock stated and proceeded to walk past Watson and Gregson into the living room, he stopped by his chair awaiting the onslaught.

'Excuse me?' Watson spoke first. 'Sherlock, a key part of our case relies on your statement.'

Sherlock sat down and stared intently at the window. He kept thinking about Steven and attempted to drown Watson out. He knew he was being unreasonable in both Watson's and Gregson's eyes, but he had no choice. He'd hope Watson might understand or at least suspect he had good reasons for his actions and support him. He was fighting back the memories of Larson, trying not to think about what his men might have planned for Steven if he didn't co-operate.

'So, that's your decision, you're not giving a statement?' Watson said.

'I have my reasons,' Sherlock offered.

'Well that's good, excellent, good to know,' Watson returned, and it was clear she was very close to exploding.

'Sherlock,' Gregson now spoke up. 'We know you've been through a lot, we understand what happened was brutal, but you have the chance to put this maniac behind bars for a long time,' he explained with care.

Sherlock understood all too well, he agreed with every word, but he couldn't risk Steven's life and he couldn't let the NYPD know he was being blackmailed into making the decision he was making. He stood up without word, he risked everything if he said anything more, so he simply left them and returned upstairs to hide in his room. Once in his room he slammed the door to release his frustrations at the situation, and had he not been still recovering he might have done more damage to fully rid himself of his anger.

Breathing heavily, he slumped down on his bed, he just hoped he'd done enough.

* * *

Joan simply listened to the door slamming and it seemed to reverberate around the Brownstone, and she looked at Gregson with despair.

'Just when I think he couldn't surprise me any further, he does this,' she exclaimed.

'We know how stubborn he can be,' Gregson offered. 'Without his statement we are just looking at his previous crimes that we know off, he'll be free in five to ten years.'

'Sherlock has the power to make it twenty to thirty, so what is he doing?' Watson rubbed her face.

'You were telling me yourself he hasn't spoken much, he's not eating and he's clearly not himself right now,' Gregson considered. 'We don't know the full story with this guy, his obsession with Sherlock was not normal and he did not go easy on Holmes,' he added.

Watson thought over Gregson's words and she realised he was talking some sense. Sherlock hadn't spoken about anything much since he'd come back. She had been so focused on getting him well again, physically so he could make the statement, she had neglected to actually ask him about what had happened. She then smirked to herself, what was she thinking, this was Sherlock, he never spoke about feelings.

'This is Sherlock,' Watson offered with a heavy sigh. 'You really think he'll talk to us about this, or anything about what's going on inside his head right now?'

Gregson smiled and already knew the answer. 'It's likely even if he did give a statement, the way he's been behaving, once on the stand they could rip him to shreds just because of the drugs. Sad but true.'

'Do we say that, still press charges but determine he's not in a fit state to take the stand or give a statement, because of the trauma of his ordeal and his habit?' Watson asked.

Gregson frowned. 'Watson, Sherlock has enough problems right now, do you think he'll appreciate being declared crazy? Is that something you want to put on him?'

'No, we don't get him declared, of course not,' Watson stressed. 'I mean we offer witness statements, he wasn't conscious for most of the time, so let's get statements from those two cops and those two guys who looked after him, surely those can be as good as Sherlock's statement?'

'We have their statements already, I mean they support the case,' Gregson stated. 'I guess we could proceed, but we'd need a medical examiner, who isn't you,' Gregson added seeing an expression cross Joan's face that he recognised. 'That can just support the fact that he's,' Gregson paused before continuing. 'Struggling.'

'If he's not going to give a statement that's our best chance,' Watson agreed.

'Think about this Joan,' Gregson warned. 'He was fairly clear that he didn't want to press charges,' he said with care.

Joan nodded her head. 'And he's not, we are, I was a part of this, your precinct was affected by this,' Watson explained. 'We don't have to involve Sherlock, we are still following his wishes.'

'So why does this seem wrong, why do I feel like I'm betraying him?' Gregson asked. 'You're right something isn't right about Sherlock, he's not been himself, but he seemed very assured of himself when it came to this.'

Watson felt so conflicted, but Gregson was right, it did seem underhand. 'I'll go talk to him, tell him what we plan to do, I'll get his consent to do this before we do it, ok?'

'That would make me feel a lot better about it, I'll wait down here,' Gregson smiled.

 **To be continued…**


	8. Chapter 8

**Past Demons**

 **CHAPTER EIGHT**

Sherlock hadn't moved since he'd slumped on his bed, he hated the lethargic state his body was currently in, in fact he wasn't enjoying anything about his existence right now. He was struggling on all fronts, and he was in denial, but all anyone wanted to see was his more manageable self, and what they were seeing was just a shadow of that man. This was the man Sherlock had never really wanted Watson to see, the weaker less motivated person he could be. The drugs were back, he felt the pull even though it was weakening by the day, it was still there, and it concerned him. It had never been this difficult to bounce back, at least it didn't feel like how he remembered it from the last few times. His lack of being able to control his intake also concerned him, and that had been bothering him ever since his first hit, whenever that was.

Days were not registering anymore, he was either awake or asleep, the only difference was he felt no pain when he was asleep and that was really enticing right now. His thoughts were broken when he heard Watson coming up the stairs towards his room. He manoeuvred himself in one clumsy move, so he was now sat on the floor with his back against the bed when she lightly knocked on the door and stepped inside.

He could see her cautious air, as she closed the door and felt uncomfortable under her gaze as she looked at him. He'd been expecting this, for Watson to have a quiet word because he's that easily swayed, and it annoyed him inwardly that Watson felt she could change his mind in this way. He had to remain strong on this, but he felt so weak. His emotions were not ready for a Watson onslaught. He felt defensive as she mentally cross examined him.

'Hey,' Watson offered.

'I'm not changing my mind,' Sherlock responded defensively, and rubbed his eyes. He kept his left his hand covering his eyes, so he didn't have to look at her but also to block out the light from the window, he was getting a headache and he just wanted to sleep.

'Are you ok?'

The question caught Sherlock a little, he had been expecting Watson to counter his statement but instead she moved next to him to sit on the floor besides him. Of course, she was taking the Doctor method of getting him onside, he considered.

'Tired,' he replied. 'Might need some of those painkillers soon,' he added, he might as well get her to tend to his needs while she tried to get the truth from him.

'I'll sort those out for you,' Watson confirmed.

'Right after trying to convince me to change my mind?' Sherlock offered, purposely lacing his words with sarcasm. Watson could be very short tempered and didn't like it when he second guessed her plans, so he needed to push so she would storm off and not want to concern herself with his stubbornness, and in her eyes, stupidity.

'Is that why you think I'm here, to change your mind?' Watson surprised him. 'Sherlock, you're the most stubborn man I know, possibly on the planet.'

Sherlock glanced her. 'Then why are you here?' he asked genuinely interested in the ploy she was adopting, she had indeed outwitted him.

'Because I'm your friend,' She replied, and he looked away. So, she's going to guilt him into doing what she wanted. 'Sherlock, we've hardly talked since you got back and I realise I've just been pushing you to get better, so I'm here, I want to know how you're feeling.'

Sherlock considered her words, feeling there was still a trap but also appreciating the fact Watson was sounding like she did actually want to know.

'You know I don't do this.'

'Yes, but I also know you're not yourself,' Watson answered. 'So, I wanted to see if you suddenly felt like talking, as part of this upgrade you've had.'

'Upgrade?' Sherlock checked unsure.

'You sleep now,' Watson smiled. 'You never used to do that.'

'It's hardly a choice, I just can't keep awake at the moment and it's hardly a surprise is it?' Sherlock stated.

'Eating something could help with building up your strength, why aren't you eating?' Watson countered.

Sherlock didn't actually know, but his appetite was gone and just the smell of food turned his stomach. 'All I know is I'm not doing it on purpose,' he offered.

'Well, that's good to know, for me.' Watson stated. 'Now I know it's not just you are being stubborn, or awkward, it's a genuine issue.'

'Can I ask a question?' Sherlock ventured, it was something he'd wanted to ask for a while, even before this whole situation started and felt now was probably the best chance he'll get to ask it.

'Sure,' Watson encouraged.

Sherlock paused before asking. His brain trying to figure out all the ways this could go wrong, but he decided to proceed anyways because he needed her to not ask about the case and his statement, he needed to distract her. 'Why are you so angry at me lately?'

'Angry?' Watson questioned. 'Sherlock I'm not angry at you? Why do you say that?'

Sherlock took a deep breath, regretting opening this box but it was getting the reaction he wanted. He avoided eye contact and stared at the floor. 'It's been for a while now, not just lately,' he started. 'When I was ok, I could deal with it but I'm feeling it more now I'm this,' he gestured, knowing he wasn't really explaining himself very well. 'Look, just ignore me, I'm tired and clearly not thinking straight,' he sighed and put his head in his hands, displaying regret at bringing it up.

'About that,' Watson spoke up. 'We know you're struggling, and not thinking straight. We know you've been stressing about the statement, and we do understand why you just want it to go away so we're going to make it go away for you.'

Sherlock lifted his head and with narrowed eyes looked at Watson. 'You are? You're ok with me dropping the charges?'

'Not exactly,' Watson replied and Sherlock's heart began to sink. 'There's another way, we can leave you out of the equation and instead submit reliable statements from those who witnessed it. So, you won't be pressing charges, the department will, as they were so heavily involved in this from the onset, with you being on the books as a consulting detective,' Watson explained.

'No,' Sherlock was already shaking his head, his plan hadn't worked at all. 'I want all charges dropped relating to my own situation.'

'Sherlock, he can't get away with what he did to you,' Watson returned. 'We do this my way, and he's not your problem.'

'I just think he's suffered enough because of me,' Sherlock used all his energy to get to his feet, Watson quickly got to hers. 'Doesn't what I feel actually matter to you? You're actually prepared to do the very thing I don't want to happen?'

Watson just stared at Sherlock before finally answering. 'This isn't about you, Sherlock, it's about putting Larry where he belongs for as long as he deserves, you think your act of forgiveness will actually change him?' she raised her voice and Sherlock simply waited for what he knew would be coming. 'Larry is a dangerous man and he should not be walking the streets again in just five to ten years, when we could put him away for twenty-five to thirty, so no, right now how you feel about your old school bully doesn't matter to me, but putting away a maniac does.'

'I get it, I truly do,' Sherlock returned calmly, but inside he was raging at Watson's apparent dismissal of his feelings on the subject, he wasn't just an old school bully, for her to suggest that hurt more than she could imagine. 'It was only this morning that I even remembered what had actually happened to me,' Sherlock saw the surprise on Watson's face. 'That's right, you care so much about what I feel that you didn't even check whether I even remembered anything, but then this morning you mention, with no warning, about the 'Larson case' and then just left it for my brain to remind me of everything that happened, on my own!' he stressed, and he realised his anger was genuine, this wasn't an act now. 'Anders Larson is my nightmare, Watson, he's been my nightmare for a number of years, so you have no claim on him, and you can't tell me my feelings don't matter!'

'Sherlock,' Watson offered but clearly seemed taken aback. 'I didn't mean it to sound like it did, but if you feel this strongly why are you going to let him get away with it, why do you think by stopping his suffering he's going to care one iota about you? Look what he did to you!'

'You look, but you just don't see, Watson,' Sherlock simply said, hoping she might crack the code but knowing the likihood in her current state it was unlikely. He desperately wanted to tell her, his emotions were too wrecked to deal with this confrontation, but he couldn't risk her not going to Gregson and testing just how crazy Larson was, he never bluffed and Steven was in trouble right now.

'What's that supposed to mean? You're not yourself, Sherlock, I'm doing you a favour and one day you will thank me!' she stressed.

Sherlock watched as Watson stormed out of the room, slamming the door. He considered her words, he didn't object to the passion behind them, but found himself smirking. 'Naw, she's not angry at me, what was I thinking accusing her of such a thing?' he quietly mocked, but it sounded more like a sneer.

He closed his eyes and considered his situation. He wasn't prepared to just wait here and find out about Steven's fate. He grabbed his phone and dialled for a taxi to pick him up from the Brownstone, before getting dressed, accounting for an extra ten minutes that he knew it would take him to do such a simple task. He knew he wasn't fit enough to do what he was about to do, but he didn't care, his own well-being was the least of his problems.

* * *

'Joan, calm down,' Gregson encouraged. Watson needed a coffee and on leaving Sherlock's room she headed down to the kitchen to prepare the much-needed beverage. In doing so she had snapped at the captain and had been slamming any object she happened to be holding down hard on the surface.

'He is just,' Joan paused, but the words were not forming. She focused instead on preparing her drink and one for the captain. 'Sorry, but sometimes,' she tried to speak but she was so physically enraged it would need a few more minutes.

'It's ok, take your time, just try not to damage anything in the meantime,' Gregson frowned.

Watson placed the hot drink in front of Gregson and just stopped herself slamming it down, she sat down at the table with him and carefully placed her own drink down.

'I take it the talk didn't go down so well?' Gregson ventured.

'You know, it started well, Sherlock actually opened up a little,' Watson remembered with a sigh. 'And I can tell he is hurting and he is struggling, he admitted that his not eating wasn't just to wind me up.'

'Well that's something, right?'

Joan put her head in her hands. 'God, I said stuff I wish I hadn't, he just pressed my buttons,' Watson let her head drop a little before looking up at Gregson. 'He asked me why I'm so angry at him all the time now? Even before all this, I mean, what does he mean I'm his best friend.'

Gregson frowned, and his expression didn't escape Joan before he spoke. 'I can't deny that lately, the two of you seem more abrupt around each other, you can be quick to dismiss him.'

'I stand up for my own thoughts, I am allowed to do that,' Joan argued.

'There was a time you also respected his,' Gregson countered. 'Look now is not the time to be discussing this but we need Sherlock to approve of our plan if it's to have a chance of working, I don't want a sulking Sherlock jeopardising what we are doing here,' Gregson said as he finished his drink.

'He revealed something else,' Joan was clearly troubled. 'He said he only remembered this morning about Anders Larson, and the stuff he did to him.'

'He'd forgotten?' Gregson checked.

'I didn't even realise he had memory loss, but I triggered the memories coming back by a simple comment that I was going to the station to discuss it,' Joan closed her eyes. 'I left him here, alone, and in that time he remembered, remembered everything, no wonder he's acting up now, he must be in such a bad place and I didn't even notice,' she took a deep breath on the sudden realisation. 'He's right, as always, I should go and see him, sort this out before it gets worse,' she decided.

They both glanced upwards as they heard hurried footsteps and before they could react they heard the front door open and slam shut. They scrambled to their feet and hurried up the stairs, as Joan opened the Brownstone door she saw the taxi cab driving away.

'He's not well enough to go out, what the hell is he doing?' Watson exclaimed, as she watched the taxi disappear into the distance.

'Maybe there is more to this than we're giving Sherlock credit for,' Gregson considered.

'What do you mean?'

'Think about it, Joan, Sherlock isn't the sentimental kind, and when hasn't he wanted to bring someone to justice,' Gregson spoke with care. 'This convinces me he's got something else going on, why risk his health otherwise, where has he got to be?'

Joan considered Gregson's words and suddenly remembered the words Sherlock spoke to her. 'I look but I don't see,' she repeated the words out loud, and saw Gregson's confusion. 'He was trying to tell me something and I was too angry at him to realise.' Watson was convinced that there had to be a reason, this wasn't Sherlock being Sherlock, and in that moment Watson realised that maybe, just maybe Sherlock had made a valid point about her attitude around him lately. 'OK, so I guess we wait, if Sherlock knows what he is doing he'll call us when he needs us?'

'Let's give him a chance but I'm still going to put an alert on that cab, let's not leave ourselves completely blind,' Gregson smiled, and Watson agreed.

* * *

Sherlock focused on his breathing as the cab pulled up outside the drugs den he had recently stayed at. He threw some notes at the driver, more than the fare and practically stumbled out of the cab towards the entrance. The escape from the brownstone had taken a lot out of him, and it hit him hard that he was still so weak.

'Colin,' he raised his voice, unable to properly shout as he entered the building.

'Sherlock,' Colin came rushing over from where he had been sitting quietly reading as a distraction. 'What are you doing here? What's wrong?'

'It's not working.' Sherlock breathed heavily between words. 'They are proceeding without me, claiming I'm not of sound mind.' He gasped and caught his breath for a moment before continuing. 'The case is going ahead, we need to speak to the guy holding Steven.'

'Are you crazy?' Colin checked. 'We can't just walk in if we can't guarantee that Larry will be freed.'

'But we can, the case has a stronger chance of being thrown out, trust me, they can't win this if my own state of mind is put into question,' Sherlock stumbled, and Colin quickly assisted him towards a chair. 'This case is shaky at best without my contribution, it was against me not anyone else, so no one else can bring it to trial but me,' Sherlock rapidly explained before his energy deserted him. 'If the validity of this case is questioned then all charges will be dropped. The guy can talk himself out of a room with no doors if given the chance. The case has to be airtight for it's to be ever won, there's a reason a man like Anders Larson has remained under the radar doing god knows what for so long.'

Colin considered the options. 'So instead we walk straight into the lion's den and just recue Steven ourselves?' he checked. 'You realise how ridiculous that looks right now, you can hardly move and I'm not much of a fighter.'

'We talk to the guy, we tell all who will listen that they've backed the wrong horse this time.' Sherlock offered and rubbed his head. 'Look, I'm not at my best, I realise that, but it's the best I've got in this condition.'

'It's crazy, we don't know how many men he has,' Colin explained.

'What other options do we have, my own friends think I'm crazy and I know what Larson is capable off,' Sherlock took a deep breath. 'We have to try.'

'OK, I'll make the call, if I tell them you are going to inform him personally I figure that gives us the best chance at an audience,' Colin said with some reluctance.

'Do it,' Sherlock spoke with assurance and watched Colin move outside to make the call. His breathing was finally calmer, and he felt able to stand up again. Taking a deep breath, just to be sure, he took out his own cell phone and typed a message, he wasn't going to send it straight away but simply have it ready for when he would need it.

* * *

Watson checked her watch and stood up. 'It's been over an hour,' she pointed out.

'I have the information from the cab company, it won't surprise you,' Gregson informed her.

'The drugs den?' she asked and saw Gregson nod his head. 'So, he's either onto something, or on something,' she considered out loud, her fears rising that it would be the latter. In that moment both their phones buzzed with their text alerts. Watson was the first to read the message. 'It's from Sherlock, Baker Street,' she read out loud.

'Baker Street?' Gregson looked confused. 'Isn't that where Sherlock used to live in London?'

'It means he's ok, but he wants us to track him, he's turned on his GPS,' Watson informed him.

'Oh, that coded word thing you have,' Gregson caught up. 'I remember now, at least this proves he's not angry at you, and that there was something going on that he couldn't tell you.'

'I guess,' Watson shrugged as she set up her phone to track him. 'Actually, it's a big relief,' she admitted. 'I have a lot to make up for,' she sighed.

'So where are we heading?' Gregson asked, hoping to distract Joan from self-pity for the moment.

'Looks like he's at a place on the East-Side, nowhere near the drugs den at least,' Watson figured.

'So, see, further proof he was onto something,' Gregson stated.

'And I'm guessing with the use of this message, he's not walking into a happy safe place,' Watson returned. 'We should hurry, just in case, but remember we don't intervene unless we have to, that's the plan of Baker Street.'

'I'll call in some back-up to be on standby just in case,' Gregson was already on his phone as they left the Brownstone.

* * *

The building was clearly disused looking at it from the outside, the windows were cracked, and the roof was in a bad state and in desperate need of repair. It was the last place anyone would think to find anyone, the place looked deserted. Sherlock now stood next to Colin in the empty and desolate place. There was only the distant sound of industry happening far away from their location, the odd sound of a bird flying through the gaps of the building the only other sound.

'Are you sure this is the place?' Sherlock asked, looking around with a natural scowl on his face.

Colin checked his text messages. 'It's where he told us to meet him.' He showed Sherlock his phone to further make his point.

The wind had picked up and Sherlock was beginning to feel the cold. He wanted to get this over with, so a conclusion could be met quickly. He felt the rising need once more inside him, it wasn't as strong as previous times, but it was a reminder that no matter what, he was still an addict, and he was not fully himself, he had to take extra care not to make a stupid mistake. Focused on pushing the desire down, he got some control over his weakened energy levels.

'You ok?' Colin's words broke through his thoughts, and Sherlock just nodded his head without response.

A noise was heard from the far-left corner, and a door opened. A lone man stepped out. He walked towards them at a slow pace, as if sizing them up.

'That's the same man who came to visit,' Colin whispered.

'Sherlock Holmes,' The man announced as he came into a range that was acceptable for a greeting.

'Forgive me, I don't know your name,' Sherlock returned.

'Funny how you brits turn a simple polite sentence into something that sounds like an insult,' the man grinned. 'My name is Anthony.'

'I meant you no discredit, simply stating a fact, Anthony,' Sherlock returned but the man simply appeared amused in return.

'So, you want the kid?' Anthony cut to the chase.

'If you would be so kind,' Holmes returned with a strained smile, deciding to play on the man's obvious amusement at his turn of phrase.

'Now here's the problem,' Anthony began the dramatics. 'I get paid a substantial sum if I don't return the kid. I also get paid a substantial sum if I get Larry off his charges, and he becomes a free man.'

'Let me understand this, even if I did my bit in helping you to make Larry a free man, you still get paid to kill the kid?' Sherlock checked.

'Did I say kill?' Anthony responded, sounding hurt by the accusation. 'So, tell me, gentleman, are you here to tell me Larry will soon be a free man?' Anthony was looking directly at Holmes as he asked the question.

'Where's the rest of your men?' Sherlock asked, changing the subject. 'You're not telling me you come up top alone and leave twenty burly men in the basement to guard a kid?'

For the first time, Sherlock saw Anthony waver from his cocky stance.

Sherlock smiled. 'It's just you, isn't it?' Anthony didn't answer, so Sherlock began to stride forward towards the door Anthony had just come through. He felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, with enough strength to stop Sherlock.

'Not so fast, English,' Anthony spoke with low tones.

'Get your hands off him,' Colin spoke up and hurried forward. Sherlock felt Anthony grab him by the shoulders and before he could react Anthony had a hold around his chest, and he was now facing Colin with Anthony behind him.

The hold was too tight across his chest for Sherlock to struggle, and he doubted he had the strength to fight back in his current condition. 'Larry is not worth this,' Sherlock pleaded. 'I work for the NYPD, they know I'm here,' he stated and reached into his pocket and using his fingers to feel for his phone he hoped he'd sent the text message he had composed earlier.

'Now revealing you work for the NYPD wasn't very smart was it?' Anthony held Sherlock tighter. 'Telling me something like that, as if it actually means anything to me.'

'Please, we just want to know that Steven is safe, he's not good in unfamiliar environments,' Colin offered with a pleading tone.

'Oh, I know, he's been freaking out back there,' Anthony smiled.

'Look, I know how persuasive Larry can be,' Sherlock began to speak. 'He's clearly promised you the moon, but you know he's going to go down, and I'm guessing you are his last man standing, right? You've seen colleagues and friends go down in the past few weeks as we pursued him, and what has Larry done for them?' Sherlock stressed.

'They got caught, they deserved what they got,' Anthony responded. 'I won't get caught.'

'You're one man,' Sherlock reminded him bluntly. 'Just as I was when I worked for him, and all he left me with was a bunch of nightmares and an over reliance in my youth for my father to get me out of problems I couldn't fix,' Sherlock revealed. 'Which then led to me becoming an addict, and now look at me!' he stressed quickly, whilst knowing he had probably missed a good deal of details out. 'Larry comes back into my life for just little over a month and I can't even defend myself now, that's what he does to people,' Sherlock spat, still in Anthony's overbearing hold. 'He's not worth it,' he repeated. 'You're clearly better than simply being Larry pet,' he added harshly.

Sherlock found himself suddenly facing Anthony, his face was full of rage. 'Too right I'm better,' he almost growled. Anthony's hands gripped the front of Sherlock's shirt, and Sherlock's legs buckled before finding that he was literally being held up by the bigger man, he forced his mind to focus as it spun for a bit as his hands gripped Anthony's forearms to steady himself.

'You dare to criticise me and my life choices when look at you,' Anthony scoffed. 'You're nothing, and you're pretty much signing that kid's death certificate, because I'm not seeing any evidence you have done anything to free Larry!'

Sherlock let his head drop. His head was still spinning, and he was trying to think of what more he could say to help Steven, but it wasn't looking good. He hoped Watson and Gregson was on their way, and he figured he needed to give them an excuse to intervene if they were. If Anthony was truly alone it meant Steven was safe, but was he willing to take that chance?

Before Sherlock had a chance to come up with a sure-fire plan he felt himself being pushed roughly forward. The momentum of the push sent him crashing into the ground, barely having time to protect himself as he landed heavily. He gathered his senses as quickly as he was able in time to look up and see Anthony land a couple of cross cut punches to Colin, who fell down unconscious before he hit the ground. That wasn't part of Sherlock's plan, and he cursed himself for being too weak to be better than this. Whilst Anthony was distracted Sherlock rolled on the floor and quickly checked his phone to see 'message sent', now he knew Watson and Gregson should be on their way.

Anthony's large frame easily pulled Sherlock up to his feet, as the detective quickly hid his phone in his coat pocket again. Anthony began to force him to walk at a fast pace towards the door. Unsteady, Sherlock was all over the place as he attempted to keep up and stay in step. He felt his energy waning and his breathing was already heavy by the time they reached the door.

Anthony simply said 'stairs', before Sherlock felt himself being pushed down a small flight and landing in a crumpled heap at the midsection of a flight of stairs, until Anthony helpfully pushed him down the final flight.

A painful crack sounded, and Sherlock screamed out, quickly realising it was from his own arm as he immediately clutched it to his chest, the pain in that moment unbearable. Sherlock barely registered that he was being dragged roughly into a room, and he only vaguely heard another voice call out his name.

'Stay where you are kid!' Anthony barked.

Sherlock was now disorientated and too distracted by the pain in his arm to truly register his surroundings. The fog had only cleared a little when Anthony spoke again.

'I figure if you go missing, you can't play star witness, case dismissed,' Anthony announced.

'Have you forgotten that my colleagues know where I am?' Sherlock managed between deep breaths, he was now lying on his back in the middle of the room, an office of some sort. 'Larry has no army, you're one man standing and pretty soon this place will be crawling with cops. Is that what you really want? Or do you want me to put a good word in for you?' Sherlock was taking care with his words, trying not to slur them so he could make a clear point. 'Think about it, getting Larry off your back, and into the bargain you stay on the right side of the law.'

'Shut up, English, you're bluffing,' Anthony took a seat. 'No cops are on the way here, and you are in no state to bargain with me, I figure if I just wait ten minutes you'll no longer be a problem to me.'

Sherlock couldn't deny he was in a bad way, and remembered Joan telling him how important it was for him to rest. He took a moment to recover before speaking again. 'Help us to take down Larry, you must have seen some stuff, help us get him off the streets for good,' Sherlock encouraged, and on cue they heard sirens that sounded very close. 'Oh, and I'm not bluffing.' Internally he was cheering, Watson had understood the message.

Anthony got to his feet and listened but showed no panic. 'You're as pathetic as Larry described, poor little rich kid who thinks he can talk his way out of any situation, I know you lied when you were just a kid, got Larry wrongfully removed from school, well daddy isn't going to save you now.'

'Excellent, he's not exactly someone I'd wish to save me, thank you,' Sherlock shot back. 'Why do you even care about Larry's education?' he questioned with confusion.

'You're as odd as he described, I'll give you that,' Anthony remarked, ignoring Sherlock's question.

'Tell me, exactly when did you manage to have such a sweet discussion about me?' Sherlock questioned, and he was becoming concerned why Anthony wasn't reacting with more urgency to the cops who were clearly nearby.

'I've been in the shadows all along, you fool,' Anthony announced with glee. 'I was at your front door that day we took you, you just don't remember my face but it's no surprise, I saw you willingly take those drugs from us, I saw you attack Larry, I saw that face so full of hate,' he explained with care. 'I even saw you encourage Larry to run and leave you with those drugs, so really, you don't want me to testify, not unless you want it to go badly wrong.'

Sherlock had to admit he hadn't expected that, he'd been too far out of it to notice there was more men than he accounted for. The room could have had cameras and bugs, he couldn't remember. Maybe Anthony was calling his bluff, but he seemed to know a lot about his captivity, and it sounded like he was going to suggest Sherlock was a willing participant and the actual aggressor. This was no longer sounding good.

'So, we just wait for the cops?' Sherlock asked.

'Sherlock?' a voice murmured from the corner and for the first time Sherlock focused enough to notice Steven was huddled in the corner.

Sherlock made to move to Steven, but Anthony abruptly stopped him by standing between them. 'You're right, I am the last man standing,' the larger man finally explained. 'And yes, I've had to watch the entire team fall, one by one, and it all started on the boss hearing one name,' Anthony carefully explained.

'Mine,' Sherlock responded, still lying on the floor finally giving his body a chance to recover some energy back.

'I've worked with him for years, most of those we were under the radar activity, and then suddenly,' Anthony gestured. 'The boss freaks out, everything we've worked for, everything we've stayed out of reach from, it all got exposed and it was all because the team made one mistake, grabbed the NYPD's attention and then he heard your name.'

Sherlock wasn't exactly sure how he should react, so he just looked at Anthony awaiting more information, he hoped it gave Watson the time she needed to locate him.

'I'm not even one of Larry's 'men', I was his accountant, business partner, a suit,' Anthony half smiled. 'Sure, I can look after myself, I've kept in shape, but I rarely got involved in the frontline stuff, I stayed back and watched.'

'Are you looking for a deal?' Sherlock suggested, still not understanding the purpose of the speech at a time Sherlock felt Anthony really should be running.

'No,' Anthony answered quickly. 'I already know I'm going down, there is a lot of stuff your cops already have in evidence that has my name, signatures, fingerprints all over them,' he shrugged. 'I've made my peace with that.'

Sherlock was just waiting for the click of the door upstairs, some sign the cops were close by and homing in on his location. There were odd sounds to indicate people were around, but he couldn't be sure how close they were with the weird acoustics of the disused building.

'Well just let us go then, neither of us have done anything to you,' Sherlock stated.

'Did you just hear anything of what I just said?' Anthony's tone suddenly changed as he glared at Sherlock. 'You have destroyed my life, a month ago I was the accountant for a very successful shipping and delivery company, that may have had some side lines we didn't exactly shout about, but I had a good life, we got away with it and now?' he questioned wildly. 'Now I'm preparing to kill myself rather than go to jail, so don't you dare say you didn't do anything!'

'None of that is strictly my fault,' Sherlock pointed out.

'The kid is the only innocent here and I'm sorry, but you, you're staying here,' Anthony stated toward Sherlock. 'I respect Larry, and this will be my last loyal action to him.'

'You plan to kill me?' Sherlock expressed an air of uncaring towards the news.

'I plan for you to kill me,' Anthony responded calmly.

'I won't do it,' Sherlock replied with confidence, he was edging himself back against the wall, attempting to get to his feet and Anthony let him struggle. 'Why would I kill you?'

'You just had to ask,' Anthony smiled and headed quickly towards Steven. 'My orders were to kill him, so here's me killing him.'

The gun was aimed, and Sherlock hurriedly pushed himself up against the wall, ignoring the shooting pains from his arm. 'No!' he yelled. Anthony was not skilled with a gun, that much was clear by the way he was shaking. He had never shot someone before, but sometimes the madness of any situation can drive people to do stupid things. 'Anthony, don't,' Sherlock spoke calmly, and he edged a little bit forward once he'd steadied himself.

'I'm the one, remember,' Sherlock continued to use an even tone. 'Don't ruin this kid's life, the nightmares he'll have after this alone will be bad enough, let him go,' Sherlock encouraged.

Slowly Anthony turned, and in just a few moments the gun was now facing Sherlock. Anthony was becoming calmer. His breathing had slowed, and he seemed back in control. He twisted the gun around in his hold, so the handle of it was now facing Sherlock, and the barrel facing himself.

'Do it,' Anthony spoke with determination.

Sherlock shook his head to indicate no, and saw Anthony glanced back at Steven. 'Listen,' Sherlock needed Anthony's attention back onto him and he got it. 'I'll take the gun, come on, let me take it,' Sherlock softly encouraged.

Anthony stepped a little bit forward to give Sherlock the chance to reach out and take the gun's handle. As Sherlock's hand grasped the handle, Anthony smothered Sherlock's hand with his own, the strength was impressive Sherlock considered but with his other hand painfully out of action, Sherlock couldn't do anything to release his own hand. That hadn't exactly gone to plan, and he stared intently at Anthony wondering where this was going to end up.

Sherlock attempted to pull away to unbalance Anthony, but his strength was no match for the bigger man. With ease Anthony instead pulled back sending Sherlock crashing into him, who cried out as his injured arm was knocked against his own body with the momentum. Anthony shoved him again, this time away from him and took hold of the gun once more, as Sherlock fell back against the office wall.

'Why don't you just do as you are told?' Anthony demanded.

'We've been asking him the same question for years.'

Anthony snapped his head towards the direction of the door and found four cops entering the room, Captain Gregson and Joan Watson staring back at him from the door, with guns raised towards him.

Sherlock used the distraction as a chance to catch his breath, and he naturally held his injured arm close to him. 'I kept telling you I wasn't bluffing,' he managed.

Anthony re-focused on Sherlock, the gun pointed directly at the consulting detective. 'I have nothing to lose now,' he shrugged.

'Tell me one thing, before you do what you feel you need to do, which by the way I feel is a very bad idea for you, and for Larry,' Sherlock spoke with care. 'Does Larry even know you're doing this?'

Anthony took a deep breath and he didn't need to answer, Sherlock could tell he had guessed right once again, but the gun was still aimed at him, and Anthony now looked a very desperate and troubled man. Going from the excesses he seemed to have had just a month ago, to this point, it would break any man.

'Put the gun down!' Gregson voice broke the tension. 'I'm warning you, put the gun down.'

Sherlock couldn't tell which way this was going to go, and he glanced at Steven huddled up in the corner. The poor kid's eyes were wide with fright, and he was clearly traumatised already.

'Put the gun down or we will shoot!' Gregson bellowed and in a flash of light a gun shot was heard, followed by several more until a calm suddenly descended.

 **To be continued…**


	9. Chapter 9

**Past Demons**

 **CHAPTER NINE**

Gregson was the first to react as the dust literally settled in the disused office space. 'Sherlock!' he bellowed. 'Get medical help, right now!' he quickly added. Sherlock was lying motionless on his side, with blood clearly seen on the floor beside him. 'Hey, Sherlock, come on, wake up buddy,' Gregson encouraged, and Joan quickly joined him.

'Mmm I'm okay,' Sherlock muttered, his eyes still closed. 'Steven,' he then added.

Gregson turned to Joan. 'Check Steven's ok,' he ordered and Watson moved away. 'Sherlock, open your eyes, let me look,' he stated.

'It's just a graze,' Sherlock diagnosed himself. 'I'm just literally too exhausted to move right now, adrenalin has run out, oh and I've busted my right arm,' Sherlock mumbled but clear enough for Gresgon to understand. 'I just need to rest here for a bit.'

'Unlucky, you're going to get all the rest you need but first you are going to the hospital,' Gregson announced as the EMP's came down the stairs with a gurney.

'Steven,' Sherlock spoke up in reply.

'He's ok,' Gregson informed Sherlock, glancing over to see Joan talking to the kid in that way that had the kid responding well to. 'He'll be fine, now play nice with the paramedics or you won't be so fine, understood?'

Sherlock managed to open his eyes enough to scrowl at Gregson in response, but was too tired to fight the people trying to help him, so he just relaxed and welcomed sleep for a bit.

'Is he ok?' Watson asked, she had allowed another paramedic to take Steven to the ambulance for a check-up. The poor kid was shell-shocked, but he'd be ok once things had calmed down, she was sure.

'It was hard to tell but he was talking, he didn't appear to be in any distress just exhausted,' Gregson answered as they watched the paramedics secure the now sleeping Holmes onto the trolley. 'Seems like a superficial wound, the bullet only grazed him, and he somehow picked up a broken arm.'

'So now we're just left to work out what on Earth happened here, and who this dead guy is,' Joan figured, looking at the guy lying on the floor when he had fallen moments earlier.

'All I'm guessing is he's connected to Larry.' Gregson offered. 'Seems everything is lately, even Sherlock,' he frowned. 'I'll be so glad to put this one to bed, and then find my own.'

Joan offered a sympathetic smile and followed Gregson up the stairs into the wider space of the factory, seeing the two ambulances had been able to drive right in. 'I'll go with Sherlock, if that's ok?'

'Go for it, I'll stick around here and see what we can gather from this crime scene,' Gregson gave Joan a quick hug. 'Try and keep him out of trouble for two minutes?' he asked.

'That's a big ask, but I'll try,' Watson smiled back, before heading towards the waiting ambulance.

* * *

'And that guy, Anthony, I never got a surname, threatened myself and Colin with Steven's life in exchange for me not pressing charges,' Sherlock was mid-explanation of his version of accounts. Sitting up in his hospital bed, he had two empty plates on his side table and a blood transfusion feed going into his good arm. The other arm was in a cast just below his elbow, and he had a heavy bandage on his upper arm from the bullet graze.

Taking another couple of mouthfuls of food from a plate in front of him, Sherlock then continued. 'His plan, if he even had a plan, which I doubt, was then quickly changed to force me to shoot or kill him, using Steven as the thing to make me. I would then be framed, and somehow that would make me unsuitable I guess to press charges against his ex-boss.'

Lieutenant Bell and Watson sat back and considered the tale they'd just been told before speaking. 'So, and sorry for asking if it's obvious, but why did he take Steven?' Bell asked.

'He saved Sherlock's life, in a fashion,' Joan intervened before Sherlock could respond. 'He then helped Sherlock through his withdrawal, by all accounts the kid saved Sherlock's life.'

'He did, no question,' Sherlock simple responded, with an unusual tone of gratitude not often heard from him. 'I'm glad you can appreciate that, Joan, it means a lot to me,' he added with care. 'What I can't determine is how Anthony knew, and we can only assume he kept tabs on me once I separated from Larry, but what I can't figure out is why he didn't go with his boss, why did he stick with me?'

'We will never know now, but maybe they had an escape plan so once he knew where you were, he would then head to the destination Larry was trying to reach?' Joan suggested.

'That actually does make some sense, he did say he was more background than front line,' Sherlock rubbed his face. 'I'm still not quite up to speed with my thinking,' he offered by way of explanation, amusing Joan he noted.

'Ok, so this guy threatens your guardian angel and you don't think to even mention it to us?' Bell asked.

Sherlock pushed his now finished plate of food away and rubbed his face with his good hand once again, he felt a headache forming. 'I didn't have all the facts at that point, Larry had so many cards up his sleeves I couldn't risk him finding out that I had spoken to you,' Sherlock offered. 'I needed to keep the NYPD out of it until I had all the facts, I didn't know then that Larry had no idea that he had this one last man standing for him.'

'OK, I think I've got all I need,' Bell spoke with care. 'We should have everything we need for now, but when you're back on your feet we may have more questions, but rest up for now,' the detective encouraged and said his goodbyes before leaving the room.

'It's good to see you eating again,' Joan offered, wanting to change the subject for a bit to give Sherlock a break.

'My appetite is avenging me, I've lost count of my intake so far since I've woken up,' Sherlock responded and then just looked at Joan. 'I'm sorry I had to lie to you, Watson.'

'I get it,' Watson quickly responded. 'Now at least, back then I thought you had truly lost it.'

'And with that thought you decided to pursue the case regardless, intending to claim that I wasn't fit to make a judgement myself, that Watson, was a low blow, I can't deny it,' Sherlock offered unable to hide his disappointment. 'But I do get it too, you didn't know all the facts, I've clearly taught you well.'

'You are the strongest man I know, Sherlock,' Watson stated in reply and then frowned. 'But I've never seen you so weak as you've been lately, and I genuinely felt I was helping you.'

'I've never wanted you to see that 'me'' Sherlock attempted to explain. 'All the time I've known you that was the me I never wanted you to see. What I want you, and everyone to see is the 'me' trying to avoid being that me.'

'Sherlock, you said that lately even before all this that I've been angry at you,' Joan spoke quietly. 'I didn't know what you meant when you said it, but I've thought about it and I think you're right, but I don't know why I've been like that with you.'

'Because, Watson, that's how everyone becomes around me, eventually, it's actually nothing new to me,' Sherlock partially shrugged. 'You've maybe lasted longer than most, however. I just grind people down by being me, I've noticed it more with you, because I secretly hoped that maybe I wouldn't get that with you,' he offered avoiding eye contact.

'I'm sorry, Sherlock,' Watson reached for his hand and was surprised he allowed her to cover it. 'I'd just forgotten the reasons why I want you to stay exactly how you are, that's the Sherlock I became friends with, and I want to help you fight being any other version.'

Sherlock appeared deep in thought to Watson's words, and didn't speak immediately. He seemed to be trying to work out what response he wanted to offer. He finally took a breath and looked at Joan. 'There was a second, a moment, in that office with the gun aimed at my head,' he began. 'When I thought that maybe, just maybe, you hadn't acted upon my text,' Sherlock spoke with precision, and he looked troubled. 'That maybe I'd finally pushed you too far, running off like I did, that maybe I broke that straw,' he appeared to be wavering with his emotions a little, as he spoke, but he continued. 'And it was the worse feeling I've ever felt but it was quickly followed by possibly the best feeling when I realised you were right where you needed to be,' he half smiled, his eyes darted around but finally landed on Joan.

'And I always will be,' Watson stated, seconds later her phone buzzed, and she quickly checked the screen.

'Steven wants to talk to you, you ok to take a call?' Joan checked.

'Yeah,' Sherlock answered without hesitation, even though Joan could tell he was drained and ready to sleep once again. Sherlock took the phone once Joan had dialled and she sat and watched as he conversed with the young man. It fascinated her how fatherly Holmes was being towards the boy, a genuine concern and interest in his welfare wasn't something that usually came naturally to the detective and as he hung up, she saw Sherlock catch her expression.

'It's a drugs thing,' he simply said.

'A what?' Watson caught herself replying, realising she'd been caught staring.

'This thing, with Steven,' Sherlock attempted to explain. 'There's a reason most drug addicts have a den, a group all sharing the same passion. A bond develops and in withdrawal its stronger, it's a survival thing I think, when you share that experience as I did and so did Steven in aiding me, you form a sort of bond that is instantly strong. I don't know how else to explain it.'

'OK, that makes some sort of sense, it's a highly emotional and traumatic time,' Watson considered.

'It's why you are very right to be wary when past acquaintances from my time as an addict reappear in my life,' Sherlock offered. 'You must pick up or sense that bond as a threat, it's a thing you can only possibly understand if you've experienced it in its true form, either the taking or the removing,' he finished.

'So, Steven is your BFF now?' Watson lightened the mood a little, waiting for the reaction.

'Something like that,' Sherlock frowned at Watson as he settled down, but she could see amusement in his expression.

'I'll let you rest,' Watson announced. 'I'm going to check in on Steven tomorrow, check he's doing ok, he was released from observation earlier, so I want to make sure he had a good first night.'

'Thank you,' Sherlock mumbled in response, already fading into sleep as Watson left his room.

* * *

Joan stepped into the Brownstone's hall way, closing the heavy door behind her. She put her bag down and her coat on a hook. The sun was shining through the windows casting a bright aura across the living room that simply lifted the mood.

'You're back, great,' Sherlock's voice was heard before she saw him appear from the back room, all smartly dressed and strangely as bright as a button it seemed.

'Sherlock,' Joan frowned looking unsure. 'Didn't I leave you at the hospital last night?'

'I discharged myself this morning, I've been topped up, prodded and fixed, no need to waste anymore time in their bed when I have a perfectly good one here.' He offered brightly.

'You seem better,' Joan observed cautiously.

'You know me, nothing keeps me down for long,' he stated and returned to the back room. 'I'm feeling a lot better, new blood, rested and my hatred for hospitals is still well and truly in place.'

Joan lightly shook her head and followed him into the back room where he was already tapping away one handed at his computer.

'What are you working on?' she asked with curiosity.

'The case, Watson, we still need to ensure Larry gets sent down, remember?'

'Of course,' Watson realised.

'It seems the appointed judge is asking a lot of questions about the validity of our case, the defence are claiming we are not prepared and Gregson is concerned enough that he's asked me, when able, to go over what we have so far.'

'I'm sure the captain didn't mean for you to discharge yourself to do so,' Joan mocked, and Sherlock simply ignored the comment. 'I'm going to make some tea, and some lunch, so when I call you to come and eat, you will take a break ok? You still need to rest.'

'Ok,' Sherlock reluctantly replied.

Joan went down the stairs and prepared a light and healthy lunch for them both, as well as the hot beverages, but it took her third call and the threat of coming up there before Sherlock descended down the staircase to take his seat.

'Sherlock, please don't push yourself so much this time, you've still got a lot to work through,' Watson warned, as he sat down.

'I feel I'm going to be saying this a lot in the coming weeks, Watson, but I feel fine, I'm much better now and being distracted by work is probably the best thing I can do right now to get back into shape,' Sherlock stated as fact.

'I admit it's nice to see the more energised you again,' Watson stated.

'I'm not out of the woods yet, Watson, I do know that,' Sherlock spoke with a seriousness that always concerned Joan. 'The pull, the need is the strongest it's been since I've known you, this time I didn't just fall off the wagon to jump straight back on, I lost myself to it over a longer period of time than you've seen before,' he said with a shaky voice.

'I'm here, Sherlock, I'm always here and I'm happy to resume the sober companion role if you think that might help?'

'I don't think you ever actually stopped, did you?' Sherlock half smiled. 'But it was also different for me this time, I wasn't as in control as I usually think I am,' he admitted. 'Larry controlled my intake, I realise now he gave me much more than I ever gave myself and to a point that that moment when Larry and I split, from what I remember, nothing else mattered but my next hit. He could have killed me, and I'd have just been disappointed that I'd have no more highs,' he scoffed.

'I'm just glad Steven found you when he did, and more importantly got you the support and help you needed,' Watson conveyed. 'He told me earlier a little more about when he found you,' she added.

'How is he?' Sherlock immediately asked.

She had just been to visit him at the den, their talk had been a lot more detailed than previous talks as Steven was no longer covering for Sherlock, it had also been enlightening and a little concerning. 'He's actually really good, considering.' Joan encouraged. 'Colin was saying he was surprised by how quickly he's got back into the swing of things, so I think he'll be fine, he was asking after you, a lot,' she smiled.

'I will go and see him, soon,' Sherlock confirmed.

'Well you better make it quick, Colin was told the land the den is on has been sold,' Joan sighed. 'He's busy trying to work out alternative accommodation for when he's told to vacate.'

'He'll be fine,' Sherlock said a little bit too quickly.

'How can you be so sure?'

'Because I brought it,' Sherlock offered with a shrug.

'You?' Joan checked. 'What are you going to do with that space?'

'I'm going to restore that building to a more suitable space for habitation, and give Colin the building he needs to help more poor sods like me, when they need it,' Sherlock stated. 'He's a good man, and that place saved my life, he deserves a break and Steven deserves a better home, right?'

'Wow,' Watson simply said.

'You think I'm incapable of compassion?' Sherlock asked, a little offended.

'No, sorry, it's not that Sherlock,' Watson quickly returned. 'Just wow, that's incredible, that you're doing that.'

Sherlock looked uncomfortable for a moment and started to eat his lunch. 'It felt the right thing to do, considering, and when I enquired about the property and land it really wasn't as much as I thought it would be, so I've put father's trust fund monies to good use for once, and he'll be really pleased I've finally made an investment with it.'

'Colin is going to be relieved,' Watson informed him. 'Don't leave it too long before you tell him!'

'I won't,' Sherlock simply responded and finished his lunch.

Silence descended between the pair for a moment, as they both finished up their lunch, Sherlock started glancing at Joan, catching her glances at him.

'Is there something you want to say to say to me?' Sherlock asked.

'I won't ask how you knew,' Watson gathered up the plates and took them over to the sink. 'My chat with Steven this morning, I guess I was just trying to come up with the best way to advise you to just be careful and it not sound like a lecture.'

'Careful?' Sherlock's interest was piqued, as he turned in his seat to face Watson. 'I'm aware that Steven is on the spectrum, or at least I suspect he is,' Sherlock assured her.

'He's still using.'

Sherlock's face couldn't hide his surprise. 'No, he's in recovery.' His voice wavered as the words settled, Watson wasn't sure if she had ever seen him this at odds before.

'Colin confirmed after I asked a few questions,' Watson revealed. 'It was certain things he said and did as I spoke to him, Sherlock, my experience with addicts left me with no doubt. So please, be careful. You know Steven is a little besotted with you, you're his new best friend but your sobriety must come first.'

'Yes, of course,' Sherlock spoke but he appeared distant as he said them.

'Sherlock,' Watson stepped closer to the detective, and got his attention. 'You may have an opportunity to help him, if you chose to do so, and if you do I will be right here, and I will help you, I'll have your back.'

'You'd be ok with that?' Sherlock checked, showing some surprise.

'I admit part of me is just curious to see more of this side of you, the way you are with Steven, it's a side I've not seen before,' Joan admitted with a warm smile. 'Never tagged you as a father figure before.'

'Because Watson it's not a side I especially want to explore as a reality,' Sherlock declared. 'I think we can all agree one of me in this world is more than enough,' he added and then paused, and looked at Joan. 'But Steven is different, those few dark days were torture, but he never left me, always held me, exactly what I needed,' he explained with care and Joan saw a troubled look on her friend's face, inner demons so close to the surface.

'Sherlock, when you could barely move you still found enough inside yourself to go and help Steven, you were literally running on empty but that was your only consideration,' Watson remembered. 'I'm not going to even attempt to try and stop you helping him now, and I wouldn't want to stop you. All I can do is ensure you don't fall prey yourself, you are still fragile yourself, Sherlock, despite this act of bravado you think you're getting away with.'

'I appreciate that Watson,' Sherlock solemnly responded, and he physically dropped the act, slumping his shoulders. 'My earlier energy is already waning as I sit here,' Sherlock admitted. 'Maybe I need to lie down for a bit, take is slow.'

'Larry or Larson, whatever you care to call him, I've only seen a fraction of the turmoil his return into your life has had on you,' Watson stated, as she tidied the kitchen up, she then turned to Sherlock. 'But you're here, you're already getting better, and you have control back over your addiction and you're eating again.'

'I never really considered the psychological effects,' Sherlock responded, he seemed deep in thought for a moment, remembering the very real flashback that had taken him right back to his school days. 'I mean sure as a kid he terrified me, but for it to have affected me as an adult like it did, an adult who given the chance could easily bring him down with just one punch when fully fit,' he stated. 'I only wish I had figured it out sooner, so that I wasn't already weakened when I realised who he was,' Sherlock spoke with frustration.

'Larry clearly didn't underestimate you,' Joan offered.

'He probably figured that was his mistake last time,' Sherlock considered with a frown. 'As reasonings go, it's not a bad one, just not the correct one.'

'Go on,' Joan encouraged.

'Over the course of a term, Larson went from a mild irritant to something much more intimidating,' Sherlock took a deep breath, but he clearly seemed ok to reminisce. 'He had a growth spurt during the summer and suddenly he was the incredible hulk compared to the rest of the year. He had his favourites, and by favourites I obviously mean targets.'

'And you were one of them?' Watson guessed.

'Yeah, I was a small kid, late developer you might say,' Sherlock admitted, his eyes now focused on his hands as he spoke, and not Watson. 'I stood out as the class freak, I was intelligent, I didn't have friends, I was the quintessential easy target for bullies. At the height of my education I probably had a maximum of five bullies at any one time.'

'Must have been tough, why didn't you try to conform to keep a lower profile?' Joan asked.

'You have met me, right?' Sherlock checked, and then smirked and Joan rolled her eyes. 'I'd never describe myself as needy but it was a new thing when this popular kid starts talking to me, not insulting me, actually talking to me,' Sherlock explained. 'We'd spend breaktimes coming up with plans on how we'd escape, how we'd break into the tuck shop, how we'd cause mayhem for the teachers,' he enthused.

'Of course, you'd find that fun,' Joan shook her head with a smile.

'Naturally when I say 'we' I do in fact mean 'me',' he corrected. 'But that's all I saw it as, a bit of fun but Larry started getting serious with the planning and I quickly realised he was taking my ideas and when one break time chaos ensued of pretty much my making, just performed by Larry I realised I'd created a bigger monster,' Sherlock frowned. 'With each stunt he gained more popularity points, he became obsessed, but he was also smart,' Sherlock sighed. 'He knew hurting me would end near perfect plans for causing mayhem, so he started hurting others, I wasn't particularly close to any other boys in the school but to get my attention he got worse with his punishments.'

'That's crazy, what did he do?' Joan asked engrossed in the story.

'Mostly beatings, black eyes, nose bleeds, stuff I could see and be reminded off,' Sherlock remembered with a shudder. 'But then he got a knife, and I realised this had to stop so I stopped, and when I found a suitable moment I told my form tutor everything,' Sherlock stated.

'Wow, that was brave,' Joan commented.

'I've always had that strong sense of doing the right thing, in my mind I felt that would be it, the grown-ups would sort it out and everything would be fine, because we were just kids,' Sherlock frowned once again and looked at Joan. 'They gave him a pep talk about not hurting other boys and play nicely. I mean seriously, I'd just told them this one boy was responsible for all the bad and dangerous stuff going on, that he had a knife and I feared what he was going to do and they give him a little talk.'

'Wow,' Joan responded.

'And you know what else?' Sherlock then quickly added. 'I got a week of detentions for being a tittle tattle, for being behind the stuff that had been going on,' he scoffed.

'That was harsh,' Joan stated, feeling Sherlock's injustice.

'They thought I'd put him up to it, they said he wasn't smart enough to know what was right and wrong and I'd led him astray, they warned him to stay away from me,' Sherlock stressed. 'Me!'

Joan couldn't help the smirk. 'That's messed up.'

So, finding out who obviously snitched on him, Larry was looking to teach me a lesson and show me who was boss,' Sherlock was becoming more animated now as his long-forgotten anger rose once more. 'Larry was upset that I'd been given credit for what he considered his work, even though they were my plans, he hated the fact that I was considered the smart one.'

'And, so he set about teaching you that lesson?' Joan frowned.

'It took him six weeks to eventually get the opportunity, I let me guard down one time because I agreed to run an errand for one of the house masters, I knew it was a mistake,' Sherlock chided himself, even then so many years later. 'As I took a route I wasn't so familiar with to visit the sports master, he found the perfect ambush spot. I can't remember how long the attack lasted,' Sherlock took a deep breath at the memory. 'I would guess maybe ten minutes or so, relentless kicking, punching and being thrown down,' he paused for a moment. 'I was grateful they'd found his knife and confiscated it at least. I remember waking up, groggy and cold and scared, it took me a good five minutes to even work out where I was.'

'That's horrific!' Watson exclaimed.

'It's really a blur but I must have stumbled back to the main building, the stairs I eventually fell down led down to the lower floor, so I literally must have walked into the main entrance and didn't stop walking. I just remember flashes of falling and then nothing until I woke up in hospital,' Sherlock closed his eyes. 'The rest you know, as told by Larry,' he rubbed his face, the tiredness was now clear on his features.

'Sherlock, I don't know what to say,' Joan admitted.

'It's ok, I've found it quite cathartic to share that actually, it's been inside me for a long time, it needed telling,' Sherlock admitted, and he absently rubbed his wrist of his good arm.

Joan noticed the still healing wound that was clearly irritating Sherlock. 'When you did that,' Joan ventured with care. 'You told Colin you didn't remember doing it?'

Sherlock stopped and looked at his wrist, seeing the wound he'd been absently rubbing. 'I can't explain what happened,' he admitted, his voice a little shaky. 'I do know immediately before it I had some, I can only assume withdrawal induced vision that I was back in that hiding spot, where Larry would attack me, and I was helpless to do anything.'

'You were hiding from Gregson and me just before you did it,' Watson offered.

'Was I?' Sherlock took the new information in. 'As I said before I can't explain it, all I can do is to know it happened, to know I'm capable of it,' he frowned. 'Even more reason for me from now on to stay the hell away from drugs. I can confirm that I do not have a death wish.'

'That's good to know,' Watson smiled. 'Go and rest,' Watson then encouraged him, and she saw him get to his feet. 'We will put that psycho away for good.'

'I hope so,' Sherlock simply sighed, but for some reason his voice didn't convey much hope. Watson let it go, she wanted Sherlock to sleep, maybe his tone more reflected his energy levels she reasoned. and once satisfied Sherlock had in fact returned to his room, she went to check her messages.

* * *

Four days had passed since Watson had learned more about Larry from Sherlock, and she glared at the monster from across the courtroom as they all stood up to greet the judge. In the days leading up to this date they had been hearing mixed views coming back and forth from the judge and defensive council, all their hard work was resting on the next few hours. Beside her sat Sherlock, looking very dapper in his suit she considered as she observed him taking in every detail of the court room before him. Each day she saw more and more of her Sherlock returning, but he still wasn't lasting a full day without the needing to rest, or feeling restless as he battled his demons still, she wondered if this was just the way things were now.

Her thoughts were thrown back to the judge as he began to speak, it was all standard talk until he paused, looking directly at their bench. The words that followed simply made no sense to Joan, and she kept looking at both Gregson to her left and Sherlock to her right to make sure she wasn't dreaming or in a living nightmare. The only words that cut through, that she heard loud and clear were 'Case Dismissed'.

'What?' Watson snapped her attention to Gregson, and the world around her caught up with her once more.

'Damn it!' Gregson snapped as he stood up. 'We will appeal,' he barked at those around him. 'This is ridiculous,' he seethed.

'How could they do that, on what basis?' Joan just didn't understand what was going on. She needed to understand what had just happened, she felt sick inside.

'Larry walks free because some shitty judge didn't like how we conducted our investigation, completely ignoring the fact a lot of the reasons were because Larry or his associates kept kidnapping our key witness!' Gregson fumed. 'How can you feel good about releasing a man who escaped custody, who has a list of crimes as long as my arm against him!' he yelled.

Detective Bell moved in to calm his boss down, and Joan glanced round to Sherlock who was just stock still in his seat, showing no emotion or reaction to what had just happened.

'Sherlock,' Joan offered. 'We will appeal,' she assured him but still there was nothing.

Finally, he blinked and stood up. 'Let's go home,' he simply said.

Watson looked at Gregson, and he nodded his head in understanding before Joan followed Sherlock towards the back of the courtroom and out into the main public area. A lot of press had gathered, picking up on the turn of events and cameras began to flash as Watson moved forward ahead of Holmes. She led a path through the people for Sherlock to follow, confused slightly by all the attention. Moments later Watson realised that Sherlock had stopped, and when she did likewise she saw the reason why. Holding court close by was Larry, talking to the press, his arrogance was astounding.

Sherlock simply stood there and observed, not moving even with Joan trying to encourage him to keep moving, but something was keeping him there.

'I'll just be a second,' Sherlock declared, and before Joan could stop him he was pushing through the people and was quickly out of her reach. She glanced round and was relieved to see Gregson approaching with Bell.

'Better be on our toes, Sherlock's heading towards him,' Watson stressed once Gregson and Bell were close, and without needing to be told they all headed towards the area Sherlock was last seen.

'Keep him in sight,' Gregson ordered once they spotted him just calmly listening to Larry speaking to the press, but still a little way away from them. 'Nothing can happen, not here but I don't want him to do anything stupid, we can't further jeopardise this case,' he added.

As Larry finished up they all saw Sherlock step forward, and now Larry could see the detective. Joan grew concerned as she could see words being quietly spoken between them, they were both leaning towards each other to keep their conversation secret. Gregson signalled to the others to get closer, if anything stupid was going to happen then now was the likely time. Then without explanation Sherlock allowed Larry to escort him through the crowds, Larry had even put his arm around Sherlock's shoulders and with the crowds dispersing in various directions it was getting harder to stay at pace with the two men walking away from them.

'Keep him in sight,' Gregson reminded the other two as they were now fighting the crowd going in the opposite direction. The crowd suddenly eased on reaching a more open space, but Gregson, Bell and Watson found themselves looking around rapidly, eyes scanning every corner of the public space. Sherlock was gone, and so was Larry.

'Not again,' Watson felt the panic rising. 'Captain, he's here, he's here somewhere,' she stressed and headed towards the exit doors leading to the street outside. Bell likewise retraced their steps and Gregson simply stood and took in every detail around them, but he had a sinking feeling as he did so.

'How on Earth did they do that?' he muttered, still looking for any sign.

 **To be concluded**


	10. Chapter 10

**Past Demons**

 **CHAPTER TEN**

All three of Sherlock's companions had missed it, for the moment, the stair case leading down. It didn't really surprise Sherlock. With the crowds and the building design, unless the space was completely devoid of human traffic it was easy to miss the stairs going down a level. They had walked through a couple of staff only doors and Sherlock found himself in a room, a room occupied by five other men.

'So, you did have more of an army on the outside,' Sherlock observed.

'This is my legal team,' Larry gestured.

'You hire them from thugs-r-us?' Sherlock asked, but Larry ignored him.

'It's good to see you looking so well, so quickly, I shouldn't really be so surprised,' Larry observed casually.

'Wasn't part of your plan though, was it? You said so yourself, you wanted to destroy me,' he said with an air of arrogance.

'That is true, in part,' Larry agreed. 'But I'm a free man, and you lost, Sherlock, your genius plan failed, I'd even say your reputation is tarnished,' he grinned. 'You don't like it when you're beaten, I remember that.'

'So, you do have the capacity to learn.' Sherlock returned glibly. 'And this is the first time you've beaten me in that sense,' he added.

'OK, enough,' one of the supposed legal team spoke up, the eldest looking of the group. 'Mr Larson why have you brought this man to our chambers? This is highly unorthodox.'

'I was just curious to see how far I'd get with his people supposedly watching his back, and clearly failing to,' Larry laughed. 'You'd think they'd have better protection for him, considering.'

'Maybe you should consider the notion that I wanted you to lose them, so we could have this chat?' Sherlock offered, and that got Larry attention.

'Don't claim you orchestrated that.' Larry dismissed loudly.

'I knew your chambers were down here, I do my research,' Sherlock offered calmly. 'It's close to the exit for the jail where you really should be heading,' Sherlock added. 'I was also confident that if I asked if we could talk, you'd not pass that up.'

'So, you're saying you're in control here?' Larry approached Sherlock.

Sherlock fought his sudden anxiety that was growing inside, the childhood hangover that annoyingly still existed when he was in Larry company. 'I'm saying I wanted to talk.'

'About what?' Larry asked confused, stood just a couple of feet away from Sherlock now.

'My apology,' he paused. 'To you.'

'You? Apologise to me?' Larry showed his doubt.

'No, you're right, that would be crazy,' Sherlock returned with a smile. 'But I'm happy to wait for your apology to me.'

Larry laughed loudly at the suggestion, and his men joined in until the room was just one loud sound of laughter. It finally went quiet again, as Sherlock patiently waited to speak again. 'Don't you think I deserve one, you have almost killed me three times I think, possibly four?'

'That cast on your arm,' Larry observed. 'Did Anthony do that?'

'Yes,' Sherlock answered.

'Good,' Larry simply responded, before he quickened his pace and before Sherlock could respond Larry held a strong grip around his throat and he was pushed back into the wall behind him. 'Don't you even dare, Sherlock, don't even dare mock me.'

Sherlock could barely breath and the intense pain around his neck was growing, Larry was still the hulk, he concluded, as he tried to pull the hold away. He felt the sound of his heart beating inside his head as the pressure grew. He was still at half capacity at best, and with his injured arm it wasn't so easy to push him away.

'Boss, probably not a good idea to kill your accuser in the actual courthouse,' one of the thugs warned, probably the smart one Sherlock considered as he tried to desperately draw a breath of any kind but there was no air available to draw at.

Larry reluctantly let go, and Sherlock involuntarily fell to the floor in a heap, gasping for air and coughing as he tried to recover.

'You'll live to regret not killing me when you had the chance,' Sherlock croaked, as he breathed deeply to regain his composure. 'You have no idea what's coming,' he grinned as he got to his feet, staggering a bit, as he used the wall to support him. 'That's what I wanted to tell you,' he said calmly, and reached for the door. 'It's why I wanted this talk, it's been fun,' he concluded and exited.

'That's makes no sense, you can't do anything to me, Holmes!' Larry yelled, and made to follow Sherlock.

'Leave him be, haven't you lost enough because of that man, come on, boss,' the smart thug complained.

'You!' Larry yelled. 'Shut up, I'm going to sort this once and for all,' he declared and ignored what the guy said as he left, he'd deal with that later, for now he only had Sherlock on his mind.

* * *

Sherlock had just about regained his breath, rubbing his neck to ease the pain, as he casually began to walk up the steps leading back up to the main entrance hall of the court house. He saw Gregson, Watson and Bell stood at the top, clearly concerned about his whereabouts. He got their attention and waved, as if nothing was unusual, and noticed with a small smile that the crowds had once again started to gather within the public space. Sherlock figured this was down to the high-profile media case he had read about that was due to start that afternoon. The press were not there for Larry, he had just taken advantage of their presence to appease his own ego, which amused Sherlock.

He had made it two-thirds up the steps and could sense he was about to get some strong words from Watson, when he saw the change in her expression from hard to concerned, a fraction of a second later he felt the hand on his shoulder and before he knew it Larry had hold of the front of his shirt and was almost touching his nose with his own.

'What did you mean?' he growled.

'I was messing, mocking you,' Sherlock calmly pushed the bully's buttons with joy. 'I do realise you asked me not to, but it was too easy.'

'No, it meant something, tell me, Holmes!' he raised his voice but didn't seem to notice the crowd above fall silent, only Sherlock saw that they had their attention. He knew they were watching a crazy man yelling at a seemingly calm but confused, possibly terrified looking man, Sherlock wanted to put on his best performance for this.

Sherlock just raised his eyebrows and said nothing, Larry shook him roughly and then he sensed movement, seeing flashes of cops now descending the stairs to control the situation, it was now or never, Sherlock thought.

'I really just wanted to call you Pee-Boy one last time,' he said straight faced, and that seemed to trigger the moment Sherlock had hoped for. He felt the crack of the fist connecting with his jaw and cheek, the hard shove on his chest and then that sensation he'd felt as a boy as he fell, the rolling and bumping felt the same, the steps were harder with no carpet which was proving a little more painful but as quickly as it started it ended, as he slumped at the bottom. He looked up, pained, but happy to see Larry being arrested, happy to see more than a hundred witnesses, happy to not have been killed by the fall, he settled his head on the cold stone floor and closed his eyes, at least he hoped he wasn't dying, he thought as unconsciousness overcame him, he didn't want to miss seeing Larry being locked up once and for all.

* * *

Sherlock was on his back, which felt chilled, there were echoing noises all around him and he deduced he was still in the stone environment of the courthouse, as his hearing and senses slowly came back to him. He kept his eyes closed for a moment, self-evaluating his pains. He was sore, his jaw and cheek stung, he felt bumps and sensed blood was present around his face, which didn't surprise him. What did surprise him was that he could feel all his limbs and they didn't seem to be damaged bar his already fractured wrist. He probably would need a new cast on his wrist, it felt a bit looser than he remembered, but unlike last time, on the carpeted stairs, he seemed to have survived better. That was worthy of an investigation, he considered and decided it was time to open his eyes, blinking against the sudden light that engulfed him momentarily, as they adjusted to the surroundings.

'Sherlock,' Joan spoke calmly, which surprised him. 'It's ok, you're safe now, you're ok,' she assured him.

Ah yes, she had been convinced by the play, he realised. Now the dilemma of whether he would ever admit to Watson about how he set Larry up to purposely try to kill him, in order to get the thug arrested, with no doubts to his own motives. He decided it was best left to worry about at another time, or not at all, he'd think about it when his head was less painful.

'Watson, where is,' he stammered for effect.

'He's not here, he's been arrested, it's over, Sherlock,' Watson reassured him.

'Good,' Sherlock allowed the EMPs to lift him safely onto the trolly, he was now at a better height to look at Watson, and he momentarily felt guilty on seeing the concern and worry in her expression. 'I'm ok, Watson,' Sherlock croaked, and Joan move his shirt and saw the bruises around his neck from the earlier attempted strangulation.

'Marcus, the camera, get pictures of these bruises, look he obviously tried to strangle him as well, Sherlock can't talk clearly,' she stressed, and Sherlock simply lay still as pictures were taken with Joan fussing about making sure his shirt collar was out of the way.

'Shouldn't I be in a neck brace?' Sherlock then questioned.

'You've already got to your feet two times, your back and neck are ok, but you have a concussion which is why you woke up on your back again,' Watson explained in her doctor voice.

'I did?' Sherlock had no memory of getting up, which concerned him.

'It'll be ok, just keep talking, you can't lose consciousness again, understand? You must stay awake until they've determined the damage to your head,' Watson warned.

With those words Sherlock could think of nothing else but falling asleep and he battled until he couldn't hold on any longer, and as they put him in the ambulance the world descended into darkness once again.

* * *

It had been a couple of days since the courthouse drama and Sherlock was sat at the dining table tucking into some breakfast. Joan was on the phone as he quietly ate his food, but he was also listening in to her conversation with Captain Gregson. It seemed in a development that took Sherlock by surprise that Larson had in fact bribed or threatened the judge it seemed, so Larry was certainly facing the prospect of life behind bars.

Sherlock finished his breakfast and closed his eyes. Light was still irritating him after his head injury, but he was already feeling much more himself, as he contemplated his day. He needed to see Steven and Colin, and reassure them about their living arrangements, and begin the process of getting the building all fixed up. He felt he needed a distraction as he recovered from his recent ordeals, and the doctor had told him to try and avoid stressful situations for a few weeks, so that seemed an ideal way to pass the time. He smirked to himself, he'd last four hours maximum he figured but he'd give it a shot before passing it off onto someone more suitable to project manage the renovation.

'Sherlock?'

Sherlock snapped his eyes open and glanced at Joan who had taken a seat at the table. 'Good news I hear?' he asked.

'Yeah, you heard most of it no doubt, but fact of the matter is our work has become a lot easier,' Joan smiled.

'Good,' Sherlock concurred. 'We got the result we were after, albeit via a different route to our original intentions.'

'We did,' Watson agreed, but paused before speaking again. 'If Larry hadn't gone crazy and thrown you down those steps he'd probably be a free man now, they wouldn't have dug deeper about his case.'

'I imagine that is true,' Sherlock agreed, but he had a sense of dread building inside of him and he naturally locked down his emotions to show no further reaction.

'What did you say to him?'

'Say to who?' Sherlock remained starring ahead.

'You goaded him to attack you, don't deny it,' Watson challenged. 'I saw you say something and next thing he punched you and threw you down the steps, leading to his arrest,' Joan recounted.

'I really shouldn't be thinking about the trauma, Joan, you heard what my doctor told me,' he warned.

Joan took a deep breath. 'Just don't ever do anything like that again, understand? He could have killed you, it was too much of a risk and don't tell me you'd calculated it to the nearest inch, he nearly did kill you, Sherlock,' Joan was clearly fuming, and it was clear she'd been holding that in since the incident.

'Pee-boy.'

'What?' Joan looked puzzled.

'That's what I said, I called him Pee-boy,' Sherlock calmly answered, figuring he had nothing to lose in admitting it to Joan, and meant he no longer had to watch what he said going forward.

'He nearly killed you, he lost all control because you said Pee-boy?' Joan questioned.

'It was the nickname we called him at school, he hated it, it was his trigger point,' Sherlock explained. 'There was this one time he got yelled at by the head teacher, he'd been playing up in assembly and he was stood there, in front of all of us, and he wet his pants,' Sherlock shrugged.

'And you're telling me a grown man reacted like he did because you reminded him of his old nick-name from school?' Joan sighed.

'He's very sensitive,' Sherlock still hadn't made eye contact with Joan as he confessed.

'Why, Sherlock?' Joan then questioned. 'Why did you let him hurt you?'

'Once the idea was in my head I couldn't shake it, and to involve stairs again in his literal downfall was too much for me to ignore,' Sherlock finally looked at Watson. 'In hindsight I'm sure we would have uncovered the bribes,' he accepted. 'How did you work it out, that I'd set him up?'

'Well I only suspected when I remembered seeing you saying something to him, but it was the bruises round your neck that convinced me more had happened,' Joan admitted. 'I told Marcus to delete the photos, it raised a contradiction to your plan, so I said I recalled you had those bruises after the thing with Anthony.'

'You lied,' Sherlock frowned. 'But you're right, it would have raised questions.'

'So, what happened, you came up those stairs without a care in the world, that was an act right?'

'I knew Larry wasn't far behind,' Sherlock admitted. 'And I knew a lot of press and potential witnesses would be at the top of those stairs, I'd looked at the cases being tried that day just in case and so when the case was dismissed, I had to think quickly.'

'You couldn't have known Larry would speak to the press,' Joan questioned.

'No, I was expecting a confrontation in the street, I would have improvised as I did when I realised he was still in the courthouse,' Sherlock shrugged. 'It didn't go completely to plan, I know he's crazy but even I didn't think he'd attempt to kill me in the actual courthouse.'

'It was a dangerous stunt to let him throw you down those stairs,' Joan stressed.

'No, I mean before that, the bruises around my neck,' Sherlock reminded her. 'He took me by surprise and I nearly paid for it with my life, but I knew the minute he released me that he would live to regret it, I even told him so,' he smiled proudly. 'There was no going back after that, I knew what I had to do.'

'Well, for the record, Sherlock, you are not allowed to get hurt, not even a paper cut for at least six months, preferably a year, your quota is full for the next twelve months, ok?' Watson ordered as she stood up. 'And you can do the dishes, as punishment.' She ordered.

Sherlock stared blankly at the dishes, knowing Watson would never understand his more impulsive side, and watched her leave the room. He contemplated his next move for a couple of minutes, and decided it was probably a good idea to do the dishes.

* * *

'You're kidding me?'

'I never kid,' Sherlock confirmed, and pulled out the documentation to hand to Colin. 'You can look after these, as far as I'm concerned this is your place now, I'll just oversee anything that needs my attention going forward, but you are the day to day person.'

'You just brought this entire building?' Colin checked again, even with the proof in his hands.

'I brought the entire plot, and I have funds available for you to make any changes and renovations you require,' he paused. 'Within reason,' he added. 'The building is still structurally sound, I had it surveyed a few days ago, those suits that came to nosey around.'

'Yeah I remember them, first I heard that we might have to move on,' Colin remembered.

'I would have given you some warning, but I had a few things going on lately, the courthouse,' Sherlock offered with a wave of his hand.

'I heard, I'm glad you're back on your feet but It's cool, I mean, wow,' Colin took a deep breath and Sherlock noticed his hands were shaking.

'I really do appreciate the help you gave me, both you and Steven, and I realised that I could give you something back,' Sherlock explained.

Colin patted Sherlock on the back in a show of gratefulness, knowing he wasn't into hugs. 'Sherlock, we are always taking the strays in, we just don't always get such a show of appreciate I mean you've set us up for life now, you do realise that?' he checked and saw Sherlock remain passive to his praise. 'I can make this a proper sanctuary now, a very real place for people to come to rather than just make the best of.'

'I'm an addict Colin, you know that, and that wasn't my first brush with drugs,' Sherlock began, and Colin gestured to him to sit down. 'But for the first time I lost control to the drugs, my own sense of control at least,' he added once he sat down. 'The time before when my father intervened, yes, I was in a very bad place and I have very little memory of it, but even then, I still felt in control, on that occasion I had my own good reasons to let go and lose myself to the addiction, I was encouraging it,' he stated and briefly saw an image of Irene in his memories, but he quickly shook her away. 'And the fact I was able to bounce back in the time I did, that demonstrated to me that I had some control over proceedings regardless of my behaviour,' He stressed and clenched his hands together. 'I just needed that jolt, someone to tell me I had to come back, but this time,' Sherlock paused, closing his eyes tight. 'This time was different.'

'We knew,' Colin simply replied quietly. 'We didn't know you from Adam, but it was Steven who realised it first, he'd seen your altercation with that other chap, so he knew something wasn't right, but we soon figured out that your need wasn't so much a need for the drug, but a need to not have it,' he explained. 'It's why we didn't enable, because we could have and maybe would have,' Colin stated. 'You were in pain, you were maybe too far gone for immediate cold turkey,' Colin shrugged. 'Normally we'd gradually reduce the intake, make it easier, or substitute it, but there was something different about you.'

'I was scared,' Sherlock simply said, with no emotion visible.

'I think maybe that was it,' Colin considered. 'It was certainly not a reaction I've ever seen in an addict before, and now I know the circumstances I can understand why, it wasn't your choice this time.'

'But that last hit, before Steven found me, I had asked, begged even,' Sherlock remembered and rubbed his face as if to rid himself of the memory. 'I think I may know what a breakdown is like now, I think,' he took a considered breath. 'I think that's why I was as bad as I was.'

'You should talk to someone,' Colin recommended.

'I'm talking to you,' Sherlock gestured.

'Someone more qualified, you have some fresh demons that need eliminating,' Colin warned.

Sherlock stood up and composed himself quickly. 'I'm good,' he stated. 'You and Steven helped me, you've already made me realise what was what.'

'Talking of Steven, he's upstairs, I'm sure he'd love to hear the news that we don't have to move,' Colin smiled, knowing to change the topic. Addicts rarely ever wanted to discuss the talking thing, and Sherlock was no different on that front.

'Yes, I should see him,' Sherlock seemed hesitant.

'He's the same guy you knew before,' Colin spoke up, sensing the hesitancy. 'I should have told you he still used, I'm guessing Joan told you, but his recovery is more long term, with his other conditions we can't use the same tactics we used on you. It's under control and he's got me keeping an eye on him.'

'That's good,' Sherlock said with a genuine air.

'He's been a little funny since his ordeal, and with the news about this building so I'm sure the funk he's been in will lighten once he knows who our guardian angel is,' Colin grinned and watched as Sherlock made his way up the stairs.

* * *

A few seconds after Sherlock left Watson walked into the room, she had been giving Sherlock some space as he'd requested by getting the measurements of the outdoor space to see what options they could have out there.

'Hey,' Watson greeted. 'Where's Sherlock?'

'He's just gone up to see Steven, he shouldn't be long.'

'Is that wise?' Watson checked. 'I thought you said he was a bit down due to the situation with this building.'

'So, Sherlock informing him that there's nothing to worry about should perk him up, right?' Colin smiled and then frowned. 'Yes, he is a user, but Sherlock has nothing to worry about, Steven is a good kid.'

'I know, I just naturally worry whenever you add Sherlock to the equation,' Joan returned.

'You're saying I should be worried about Steven?' Colin checked, with a mocking tone.

Joan just shook her head before answering her phone that just started to ring.

* * *

'Steven?' Sherlock quietly spoke as he entered the room where he figured Steven would be. There was no answer, so he stepped in and immediately saw the sight of a young man, not Steven, lying on the floor with a ridiculous grin across his face. The top of his arm had a tourniquet in situ, veins still bulging, and a needle placed close by, discarded with no care or attention.

Sherlock froze and felt his heart increase its beating speed. His eyes were transfixed on the prone form, he knew every detail of what the boy was experiencing, and he hated that he also felt jealousy. To experience just a small part of what the young man was going through, after everything he'd had to deal with in the past few weeks, was a huge temptation.

'That's David,' Steven's voice crashed through his thoughts and Sherlock spun round to see the young man he had actually been expecting to see.

'Steven, hi,' Sherlock flustered slightly.

'I didn't know you were coming today, if I'd have known,' Steven paused for a second, and that was all Sherlock needed to see to know that he too was under the influence, just further down the line than his friend David. Instead of finishing his sentence he simply laughed and fully embraced Sherlock in a hug.

Sherlock attempted to not appear too uncomfortable, allowing Steven to basically drape himself over him for a moment before Sherlock gently encouraged him to step back.

'Did you hear I'm going to be homeless, homeless!' he stressed. 'I can't deal with this, this is the only home I've known, it's my place, I need this place,' he continued, clearly not thinking too straight.

'It's going to be ok, Steven, I've brought the property, I'm not going to make you homeless, this is your home for as long as you want it to be,' Sherlock announced with care, willing the boy to understand his words in his current state.

'You?' Steven looked directly at Sherlock, processing the news but he only managed the one word, he then grabbed Sherlock's biceps and pushed him back against the wall, Sherlock let him, he wasn't surprised, he already knew Steven was strong. 'You bought this place?'

'Yes,' Sherlock stated. 'Colin's in charge of it now, we're going to do it up, renovate it,' he added, thinking going into too much detail right now was a waste of time considering Steven's lucid state.

Still holding Sherlock against the wall, Steven began to laugh, and Sherlock could see the boy was processing the information, and then became concerned that it was maybe a bit too much information in his current state.

'Come on, let's go and see Colin and he can confirm,' Sherlock encouraged Steven to back off, but Steven's wasn't taking the hint.

'We should celebrate!' Steven then declared loudly, and the more he saw the more Sherlock realised this was not Steven, this was the drugs talking. 'Let's celebrate!' Steven produced a couple of prepared syringes from his jacket. 'I was saving these for me and David but now you're here,' he slurred slightly as he held the two syringes up close to Sherlock.

Sherlock was frozen in place now, his eyes fixed on the syringes and his breathing increasing. 'No, Steven, please don't do this.'

'Come on, it'll be fun, me and you getting high together,' Steven wasn't in control, and Sherlock forcedly pushed him away. He put some distance between them, but the door was where Steven was now stood. 'Sherlock?' Steven looked hurt.

'I don't do that stuff remember?' Sherlock reminded him, speaking slowly so he was understood, and for a moment he saw a flash of doubt across Steven's expression. 'I'm going to go downstairs now, Steven, let you do whatever it is you want to do to celebrate.'

'You won't join me? We're friends,' Steven held out the drugs in his palm, as he walked closer to the detective.

He could easily leave the room, he could just as easily overpower Steven, but Sherlock was frozen in place. He couldn't move, despite his brain screaming at him to do so. This wasn't Steven's fault, he was too far gone to really understand the situation in that moment, and no doubt when he did eventually come down from this high he'd be horrified by his current actions, but fact remained, Sherlock was not making any attempt to get away.

Sherlock closed his eyes, he felt the sensation of his head spinning and reached out to steady himself. He could see Larson, he could hear Larson and he felt helpless, everything was out of his control, he felt hands on him, his coat was being removed. He couldn't move, he couldn't stop them, and he didn't understand why, he was struggling to breathe, and the panic was rapidly rising within him, he staggered, nearly losing his balance but he didn't fall down, he couldn't open his eyes through fear of what he would see. He started to try and force his brain to think of anything else, something good, something that would rid him of these nightmares.

He had to regain control of his senses, but he couldn't do it, something was wrong his heart was pounding, and he was that little kid again. He suddenly couldn't remember what was happening, and then with a gasp, everything went black.

* * *

'What was that?' Watson immediately reacted to the sound of a dull thud above them.

Colin didn't waste any time and darted up the stairs, Joan was quick on his heels. He reached the door just a few seconds later and flung it open.

'Steven!' he yelled on seeing Steven grappling with David, both young men were really fighting with pure anger, induced by the drugs. Colin threw himself between them both, making enough of a noise that both boys stopped and took note of their surroundings, calming down almost immediately.

'Not again!' Watson hurried in after Colin, seeing the detective sitting up against a wall, his positioning suggesting he had fallen, but had quickly recovered. Joan's concern rose on seeing he didn't look well. 'Sherlock, what happened?'

Sherlock just slowly shook his head, his eyes wide and his breaths were deep and shaky. Fear, Watson deduced, a shock, something had really frightened her friend.

'David get out of here,' Colin yelled, and the boy grabbed a jacket from the floor and quickly disappeared. 'Steven, what the hell happened?' Colin asked with despair, picking up the unused needles.

'I, I,' Steven stammered. 'I don't know. Sherlock,' he glanced at Sherlock, but Sherlock didn't respond to his name. 'I don't know what I did but it was bad, I think,' he was shaking.

Joan went into medical mode as she encouraged Sherlock to take slow deep breaths, assisting him by talking him through it. She checked his pulse and remained instructing him until his heart rate had settled, by which point Sherlock appeared to be growing much more aware of his surroundings to her relief. She tried asking him some simple questions, but he still couldn't manage a response, she was concerned by his current state of mind.

'Did he take anything, Steven?' Watson asked, Sherlock's jacket being removed had left his arms exposed, she couldn't see a new mark, but she couldn't be sure.

'No, he nearly did but no,' Steven remembered, having quickly sobered up.

'What the hell happened up here?' Colin asked. 'You know this man is in recovery, did David do this?'

'Not exactly,' Steven avoided eye contact with Colin as he spoke. 'I was high, Colin, I saw Sherlock and I was in my happy place, he makes me happy and he told me some happy news and-' Steven paused, he looked like was going to cry. 'I forgot, I just forgot.'

'So, what, David stopped you?' Colin was confused.

'No, David saw me removing Sherlock's jacket, he saw the drugs and he thought I was giving his fix away, he'd just come to and I was, what I was about to give Sherlock was David's fix, we always share,' Steven explained. 'But I wanted to be happy with Sherlock, I wanted to give him some good stuff,' he stressed, and the tears fell.

'Ok, look it was a misunderstanding, go get your head sorted, we will talk when that stuff has worn off, and try to avoid David for a while, until we've talked, ok?' Colin advised calmly, and with just a glance at Sherlock, Steven quietly left the room.

'I need to get Sherlock away from here,' Watson stated and with Colin's help they moved him to the front of the building. As they waited for a taxi, Sherlock became more responsive but remained quiet.

'Sherlock, I'm so sorry,' Colin offered, when he felt Sherlock was listening.

'It's fine,' Sherlock finally responded, and to Watson's relief. She could see he was still traumatised, but he seemed to know where he was now, which was progress. 'I think if you speak to Watson, going forward, about plans for this place, I'm sure you can understand,' he added quietly.

'Of course, of course, and about Steven,' Colin began but Sherlock was quick to cut him off.

'Don't be too hard on him, I've been there, this wasn't his fault, it was no-one's fault,' Sherlock stressed and moved forward as the taxi cab approached.

'I'll be in touch,' Watson offered Colin a quick hug.

'Take care of him, make sure he speaks to someone,' Colin whispered before Joan moved away.

'I will,' she smiled before getting into the cab next to Sherlock. She gave a little wave as the cab pulled away and then placed her hand on Sherlock's. 'What do you fancy eating tonight?'

'Not hungry,' Sherlock responded too quickly, his focus fixed on the window as the world passed by.

'Ok, well I'll order some Thai and I'll get a little extra in case you change your mind,' Joan informed him, and started the order on her phone.

Sherlock took out his own phone and dialled a number, after a few moments he spoke. 'Alfredo, can you come around this evening? Yes, I need to talk, we have a lot to catch up on.'

Joan couldn't hide her smile, glad that she wouldn't need to force Sherlock to make the call.

* * *

Alfredo looked exhausted as he entered the kitchen area, Watson immediately stood up and went to pour a fresh coffee for Sherlock's friend.

'That was a tough one,' Afredo spoke with a frown and took the coffee. 'What took him so long to contact me?'

'Lots has been going on, hopefully it's going to calm down for a bit now,' Watson answered.

'From what I can tell his head is on straight when it comes to the actual addiction, I'm fairly confident he won't be using voluntarily anytime soon,' Alfredo explained. 'But it might take a bit longer for the other stuff to clear his system.'

'Other stuff?' Watson asked, but felt she already knew what Alfredo was about to say.

'He's a mess, never seen him so-' Alfredo paused to think of the best description. 'So terrified, confused, everything Sherlock normally isn't.'

'He's been tested recently, a demon from his past,' Watson offered, knowing it was an understatement.

'I think I helped, at least he was more himself when I left him, and by that, I mean odd,' Alfredo smiled, and quickly finished his coffee. 'I gotta shoot, but call me, or get him to call me if he needs me.'

'Thanks,' Watson smiled and took the mug before Alfredo headed up towards the exit.

Watson washed the mug and heard someone coming down the stairs a few moments later, she purposely focused on washing the cup.

'So, am I cured, is there hope for me?' Sherlock asked when he walked into the kitchen.

'You called him, don't make out I forced you to speak to Alfredo,' Joan returned as she turned off the water. 'Did it help?'

'As a matter of fact, I think it did,' Sherlock said with an air of hope. 'Speaking it all out loud help me realise how ridiculous this all is,' he frowned, and took a seat. 'I don't understand why I reacted the way I did, why I froze with Steven when I could have just walked away.'

Joan took the seat opposite Sherlock, she could see how troubled he was. 'You're still recovering,' she said calmly. 'Both physically and mentally, that was your first interaction with drugs since your withdrawal, it was just too soon for you to have to deal with that, it was completely normal to react how you did when you were not prepared for it.'

'I don't do normal,' Sherlock returned.

'Well that's what normal feels like, and that's why its freaked you out,' Joan half smiled, she was pleased to see Sherlock return the smile.

'Whatever it was I never, ever,' he emphasised. 'Want to feel like that again. I should have just forced myself into that situation a lot earlier, it would have saved me a lot of hours at meetings and talking to strangers,' he frowned. 'But I'll be ok, Watson, now I'm aware of this, whatever this is I can manage it.'

'And I'll help you,' Watson offered.

'As you always do, Watson, as you always do,' Sherlock confirmed and stood up. 'Thank you.'

'For what?'

Sherlock took a moment before speaking. 'For understanding me, I'm realising more and more the lengths you go to in order to-' he paused again. 'The lengths you go to in accommodating me, my ways, and I know I can rely on you.'

'Always, Sherlock.'

'I just hope, in my own way, you feel I can offer the same.'

Watson smiled and stood up. 'The fact I'm even here, Sherlock, doing what I do is purely because you enabled me.'

Watson patted Sherlock reassuringly on the arm and left the kitchen area, Sherlock watched her walk up the stairs as he processed her words, and slowly he nodded his head to agree with her.

'We're a good team,' he concluded and let that thought sink in.

 **End.  
**

Thank you so much for reading, this was a fun story to write and my first time playing in the Elementary universe after a break from writing fanfic. As I sit here about to post the final chapter I'm already writing a new Elementary fic, and yes, I have ideas for a sequel to this one as well that takes place during season 6 - I just need to see all of season 6 before I commit to that, I just like the idea of season 6 Sherlock, with all his PCS issues being in this set up (yeah I know, like I didnt put him through enough already lol)

but thats it, hope you enjoyed it, thanks again for reading!


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